“If it does, try elevating one foot on a support of some kind. And let me know if it gets worse.” Paige glanced at her computer screen. “Did I mention that your blood tests came back normal? Everything looks good.”
That was reassuring. Another thought occurred to Erica. “Could emotional distress bring on a nerve problem?”
“I haven’t heard that, but you never can tell.” Concern replaced Paige’s professional cheeriness. “Last time we spoke, you planned to look into adoption. How’s that going?”
“I ran into a snag with the father.” Erica drew her knees up to get more comfortable. “He wants to keep the baby himself. I was ready to consider it, and then I discovered he’s been lying to me.” She explained about Lock’s occupation and Ned’s disclosure. “I feel…I’m not sure what the word is.”
“Violated?”
“Exactly.” Violated, angry and deeply hurt. Lock hadn’t even bothered to contact her since their phone conversation. She hated to admit how much she’d cried this past week. After her divorce, she’d sworn never to let a man reduce her to tears again, and here she was sobbing like a schoolgirl.
“Surely you don’t think he impregnated you on purpose!” Paige sounded horrified.
Lock wasn’t that devious. “No, no. I just wish I knew the whole story, but he claims he has to protect his client.” Erica had given the matter a lot of thought, much of it during sleepless nights. Sometimes she felt a glimmer of understanding, but not enough to excuse Lock. “How could I trust him with the baby now?”
“You have another seven months to think about it,” Paige pointed out.
“I suppose so.”
Erica wished Lock would come see her. Despite the way she’d chewed him out on the phone, he should still realize she needed his support, so why hadn’t he called?
She sighed. She’d taken up enough of the doctor’s time for today. “I’m glad my pain doesn’t indicate a serious problem.”
“Both you and the baby are fine. If you like, we could schedule a sonogram.”
The offer hung in the air, shiny and tempting. It would let Erica see her baby. In the very early stages, of course, but how miraculous....
What’s wrong with me? That’s the worst idea ever. “No, thanks. In the long run, this isn’t going to be my baby. It will be loved and raised by someone else.”
“Having an ultrasound might help you be sure that’s what you want,” Paige murmured.
“Or it might tempt me to make a stupid emotional decision.” Erica swung her legs off the table.
Paige took her arm to steady her. “Just because a decision’s emotional doesn’t make it stupid.”
“Don’t pressure me!” Erica snapped.
The doctor raised a hand apologetically. “That wasn’t my intention. I’m sorry if it came across that way. But you do seem conflicted.”
“I don’t see how a sonogram is going to make me any less conflicted,” Erica replied. “But I appreciate that you mean well.”
“You’re facing a lot of complicated issues,” Paige said. “Pregnancy should be a happy time when you prepare for a baby. If only we lived in a perfect world.”
“If this were a perfect world, the condom wouldn’t have broken.”
She hadn’t meant to get cranky with Dr. Brennan, Erica reflected ruefully a few minutes later as she exited the medical building. She wished they could have talked longer. She missed having women friends.
She hadn’t seen Renée this week except to say hello in the hallway, Erica realized. Why not seek her out? She ought to be getting off her shift about now.
Erica headed for the hospital. On the fourth floor, in the volunteers’ locker room, she found her friend changing from a pink uniform into street clothes. One look at her drawn face and red eyes and Erica forgot her own worries. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve done something horrible.” The older woman drew an agonized breath.
“Did you tip over a wheelchair?”
Renée’s eyebrows shot up. “What? No, nothing like that.”
“I’ve had a rough week and obviously, you have, too.” Erica tucked her friend’s arm through hers. “Let’s go have a cup of tea and pour our hearts out.”
“I’d like that.” She blinked hard. “I keep turning things over in my head, but it only makes me feel worse and worse.”
“Me, too,” Erica said. “Your place or mine?”
“Mine, if that’s all right,” said Renée.
“You bet.”
What could this sweet soul have done to cause such a guilty conscience? Erica wondered on the drive to her fairy-tale cottage. The flowery decor with its fantasy figures and pleasant scent lifted her spirits, and she settled comfortably with her cup of tea. “You go first.”
“Are you sure?” Renée asked.
“Shoot. I’m ready.”
After taking a shaky sip, she set the dainty cup aside. “I emailed my son and told him a little about me, just some basics, and explained I didn’t want any further contact. That I like my life the way it is. Don’t I have the right to do that?”
“Of course.” Erica understood how threatening it could be to face a total stranger with so many issues between you.
“Yesterday I checked the temporary email address I’d set up.” Renée’s hands tightened in her lap. “He accused me of ruining his childhood. The couple who adopted him got hooked on drugs and dumped him in foster care. All these years, I’ve imagined I did the best thing for him. He acts as if it were all my fault. I was only seventeen. What does he expect from me?”
With a start, Erica realized she was hearing the other side of a familiar story. Lock’s story.
Renée was his mother. That made her the baby’s grandmother, as well.
Now what was she going to do?
Chapter Fourteen
A pounding on his bedroom door woke Lock at a ridiculously early hour on Saturday. Blearily, he heard his brother call, “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, you’ve got a visitor.”
“Get lost,” Lock responded, in what he considered a restrained manner for a guy who’d returned from Mexico late the previous night.
By the time he and Mrs. Eckert had arrived at the Ensenada hotel on Monday evening, Josiah had gone missing again.
Lock had made a few calls that evening, and the next day they’d begun to search, eventually finding him in police custody. He’d been sleeping in an alley with no identity papers and no idea how he got there. It had taken hours to get the situation sorted out and arrange his release from jail.
Josiah had greeted his wife with relief and gladly gone along with them to a hospital, where much of the staff spoke English. Tests had indicated he suffered from very high blood pressure, which had spiked and caused his confusion and strokelike symptoms.
While he was in treatment, Lock and Mindy had crisscrossed Ensenada until they’d spotted Josiah’s car parked in a dirt lot. Finally, on Friday, the doctors had released their patient to return to California, where he would seek further care. Lock and the Eckerts had meant to leave in the morning, but thanks to paperwork delays, hadn’t been able to set off until last night, Mindy driving her husband’s car behind Lock’s.
“I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t had you to turn to,” she’d told him once they reached her house. “No matter what it costs, it was wort
h it.”
“Let me know how he’s doing,” Lock had replied. “I’m glad you got your husband back.” They might never learn exactly where Josiah had been during those lost days, but at least he was reunited with his family and in good hands.
Lock hadn’t made it to bed until after 3:00 a.m., his injured leg throbbing from all that driving and walking. Now it felt stiff as a pool cue. He deserved a few more hours of uninterrupted rest.
Mike, oblivious to his brother’s state, yanked open the door on its squeaky hinges, marched over and dragged the covers off his bed. Cool air rushed in. “Hey!” Lock grabbed in vain for the blanket. “It’s cold.”
“That’s what you get for wearing nothing but underwear to bed.” Mike dodged the pillow Lock threw at him.
“As opposed to your favorite sissy striped pajamas?” Lock groaned. “Who would visit me at this hour, anyway?”
“It’s two in the afternoon.”
“Yeah?” He squinted at the clock, confirming the time. “Well, I’m exhausted. Tell him to go way.”
“I’ll send her in and you can tell her yourself.”
Her? “Who is it?”
“Erica.”
His gut tightened. He’d started to call her a couple of times during the week, but a phone conversation just wasn’t going to cut it. He’d planned to go see her this evening—after he figured out what to say. Which he still hadn’t done.
“Who gave her my address?” Dragging himself out of bed, he pulled a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt from the closet. No chance to clean up without going through the hall.
“I asked her that,” said Mike cheerfully, leaning on the door frame. “Seems she found out from Patty.”
“Next time I move, it’ll be to a town where nobody knows anybody.” Grumpily, Lock dashed to the bathroom.
A few minutes later, still feeling gritty but unwilling to leave Erica to stew any longer, he limped down the hall to the kitchen. She sat at the table drinking coffee, and looking good enough to eat in a flowered blouse and pink sweater, her hair a soft blond cloud.
And he was starving.
“Tell me that isn’t the last cup of coffee,” he said.
“Not quite.” Erica indicated the coffeepot, where half a cup remained. The light was still on, so at least it should be hot. Although tempted to pour it straight down his throat, Lock reached into the cabinet for a mug.
“I’ve been in Mexico,” he rasped.
“Your partner told me.”
Thick and strong, the coffee burned its way into his gut. “It was an emergency. I didn’t have time to see you before I left.”
“They don’t have email or phones in Mexico?” Erica shook back her hair. Lock couldn’t read her expression today. Still angry? Disgusted?
“I figured we should talk in person. Once I was feeling human again.” He took a seat beside her. “Which I’m not.”
“Too bad, because you’re on the hook.”
“For what?”
“This morning during surgery, Dr. Tartikoff mentioned that he and his wife bought tickets to a musical tonight. They’re counting on us to watch the kids. I’ll go alone if you can’t make it, but you did promise.”
She was still willing to babysit with him? Amazing. Thanks to the caffeine, the fog in Lock’s brain was lifting. Tonight presented the very opportunity he’d been seeking, both to learn about babies and to spend time with Erica. If he hadn’t felt so drained, he’d have let out a cheer. “I’ll clear my social calendar. What time?”
“Seven. Is that all you have to say?” She regarded him through narrowed eyes.
“I haven’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday,” Lock said. “Are you going to explode sometime in the next few minutes, or can I fix myself something to eat?”
“Both.”
“Any chance I can kiss you without getting bitten?”
She only glared harder.
“I could answer that for you,” Mike said from across the room. He must have slipped in unnoticed. “It’s no.”
Lock lumbered to the fridge. “Go away. Erica and I need to talk.”
His brother didn’t move. “I live here.”
Lock blurted the first thing that occurred to him. “I’ll tell Mom.”
“Okay, okay.” With a shake of his head, Mike ambled back into the depths of the house.
“He’s your brother?” Erica asked in confusion.
In the freezer, Lock found a chicken dinner. “Foster brother.”
“What else haven’t you told me?” Her voice had that telltale quaver again.
He put the food in the microwave. “Erica, I’m sorry about the way we met, but I’m glad we did.”
“Ginnifer Moran hired you, didn’t she?”
A denial stuck in his throat. That might be because he’d finished the coffee and badly needed more. Finally, he muttered, “I can’t say.”
“A friend in Boston emailed to say Ginnifer and Don broke up, and that I should check her Facebook page, so I did,” Erica told him with a trace of amusement. “She calls Don a sleazeball who lied about his ex-wife. That would be me.”
Thank goodness she’d figured this out without his having to tell her, Lock thought. “What else did she say?”
“That she hired a detective who proved his ugly stories weren’t true. What did he say about me, anyway? That I pick up men in parks?”
“Not parks, specifically.” Lock pulled her up from the chair and put his arms around her. To his relief, she rested her cheek on his shoulder. “Erica, I hate what I did. I’m glad you turned out to be the opposite of everything your ex-husband claimed, and that I was able to clear your name. You’re very precious to me, and I’m asking you to forgive me. I’d seriously consider getting down on my knees, but I might never be able to get up again.”
She lifted her head. “Your leg hurts?”
“Like fire. Any chance of a massage?” He stroked her hair, releasing a light, fresh scent that felt oddly healing.
“I was going to suggest ibuprofen.” She drew back with a trace of reluctance. “Did you tell her you slept with me?”
“No way!” Lock took Erica’s hand. “I filed my report after our first encounter. The rest is none of her business or anyone else’s.”
“I’m afraid it’s the whole world’s business now.” She rested one hand on her stomach. “Everyone at the hospital must know about my pregnancy.”
Well, so what? “I’ve missed you,” he said. When the microwave buzzed, he ignored it.
“Much as I hate to admit it, I’ve missed you, too.” She appeared to be fighting a smile.
“Pick you up at a quarter to seven. Anything special I should wear? Wading boots? Combat gear?”
Erica laughed. “You’re hopeless.”
“On the contrary, I’m very hopeful.”
“There’s something else. But we’ll discuss that tonight.” She got to her feet. “Enjoy your meal.”
Despite the rumbling in his stomach, Lock walked her to the front door and held it open. He’d have liked to escort her to her car, but his leg really did hurt. And in his current mood and state of hunger, even a microwaved chicken dinner smelled like heaven.
Tonight. Erica. Babies. His spirits soared. As for whatever else she wanted to talk about, he’d play that by ear.
SHE HADN’T INTENDED to forgive him, but the sight of Lock all rumpled and repentant had gone straight to Erica’s heart. Thank goodness it was a short drive home, because she had to force herself to pay attention to traffic. Her body still vibrated with the feeling of his arms around her and the earnestness in his face. Being with him had dissipated her anger and thrown her so far off track she hadn’t found a way to bring up the subject of his birt
h mother.
Last night at Renée’s, Erica had done her best to console her friend without revealing what she knew. Not until she could think it through. And the more she mulled over the subject, the more obligated she felt to protect both mother and son. But she couldn’t ignore the situation, either. Renée was suffering, and Lock must be, too, or he wouldn’t have unloaded the way he had on his birth mother.
Erica cared about both of them. As if the situation wasn’t complicated enough, she was carrying Renée’s grandchild. What a tangle!
Tonight, while they were babysitting, Erica would have plenty of time alone with Lock. Somehow, she’d find a way to tell him about Renée. And persuade him, once and for all, how foolish this single-dad business was. He’d just taken off for Mexico on a moment’s notice, for heaven’s sake. As for his house, how could he bring up a baby in a bachelor pad with a pool table in the den?
Even if he gave in, Erica knew it was going to cost her. Once they went through the ordeal of giving up their baby, how could they feel comfortable around each other? She was going to lose him.
And Renée, too. Once she found out this was her grandchild, she was likely to drop her hands-off attitude about Erica’s decision to relinquish. But then, hadn’t Erica learned not to count on others?
That reminded her of a task she’d been putting off: calling her mother. A check of her watch showed that it was nearly three, almost six in the Boston area. Although her mom might have plans on a Saturday night, it was early.
Nurturing might not be Bibi’s strong point—she often behaved more like a sibling than a parent—but surely she’d rise to the occasion. Friends might come and go, boyfriends and husbands might disappoint, but your mother was always there. And Erica sure could use some motherly reassurance, she reflected as she dialed.
“Bonsoir,” Bibi answered in a lilting tone. She’d been taking a French class in anticipation of a European tour she and her sisters were planning.
“Hi, Mom.” Guiltily, Erica realized it had been weeks since she’d called. “It’s me.”
SH Medical 07 - The Detective's Accidental Baby Page 14