One Special Christmas & Home for the Holidays

by Irene Hannon

  “Kate? Are you okay?”

  Okay? No, she wasn’t okay. In fact, her hand on the edge of the door was trembling. Which was ridiculous! She tried to get a grip. She barely knew this man, she reminded herself. They were practically strangers. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, he was nice. Yes, she found herself attracted to him at some basic level that she didn’t understand. But he wasn’t in the market for romance, and neither was she. She needed to remember that. She drew a shaky breath and somehow found her voice.

  “Yes. I’m fine. But Sarah’s not.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  He held up his black bag, which had somehow escaped Kate’s notice. Her gaze had gotten stuck on his broad shoulders and muscular chest. “A house call?” she said in surprise, her voice slightly breathless.

  He smiled and shrugged. “Mom said you sounded really worried.”

  Kate stepped aside and motioned him in. “I am. But I didn’t expect you to come over. It’s your day off, isn’t it? The answering service said Frank was taking the calls this weekend.”

  “He is. But I told him I’d handle this one.”

  “Why? I mean, you don’t do this for all your patients, do you?”

  He gazed down at her, and the blue of his eyes seemed to intensify. “No, Kate, I don’t.”

  She stared at him, and her mouth suddenly went dry. He’d answered her second question, but not her first. Which was probably just as well, because she wasn’t ready to deal with the answer she might get. At least, not yet. Nervously she tucked her hair behind her ear and looked away. “Well, I—I appreciate it, Eric. Sarah’s back here.”

  Eric followed as she led the way down the short hallway. He was glad she hadn’t pressed for an answer to her first question, because he wasn’t sure himself why he had come. There had been no need to make a house call. Frank could easily have dealt with the situation by phone. But he’d experienced such a letdown when he didn’t see Kate in church this morning that he’d grasped at the first excuse to see her. It wasn’t wise, of course. But when it came to her, his heart seemed more in control of his actions than his mind was. Which was a problem he needed to address—and soon.

  “Dr. Eric came to see you, honey.”

  Eric smiled at Sarah as he followed Kate into the charmingly decorated little girl’s room and sat down on the bed beside his patient. “Hello, Sarah. I heard you were sick.”

  “Uh-huh. I threw up.”

  He glanced at Kate.

  She nodded. “Twice in the last hour. And her temperature is still a hundred and two.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound like much fun.” He snapped his bag open as he spoke. “I’d better take a look. Is that all right with you, Sarah?”

  “I guess so. You aren’t going to give me a shot, are you?”

  He chuckled. “Not today. I’m just going to listen to your heart and look in your ears and check out those tonsils.”

  He conversed easily with Sarah while he did a quick exam. When he finished he removed the stethoscope from around his neck and placed it back in his bag.

  “Well, little lady, I think you have the flu. But you know what? You should feel a whole lot better by tomorrow. In the meantime, I want you to drink a lot of soda and water and juice and take aspirin whenever your mom gives them to you. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He turned to Kate. “Do you have any white soda?”

  She nodded. “I’ll get some—and the aspirin.”

  As Kate disappeared down the hall, he turned back to find Sarah studying him quite seriously. “Dr. Eric, do you have a little girl of your own?” she asked suddenly.

  A pang of regret ricocheted through him, almost painful in its intensity, but he managed to smile. “No.”

  “Do you wish you had a little girl?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Sometimes I wish I had a daddy, too.” She pointed to a picture of Jack on her bedside table. “He was my daddy. Mommy says he watches out for me from heaven now, but I wish I had a daddy who could hold me in his lap and tell me stories.”

  “I wish you did, too, Sarah.” Eric reached over and smoothed the hair back from her flushed face as his throat constricted. If everything had gone the way he’d planned, he would have his own children right now, and a wife who loved him. But he’d never have the former. Nor had he ever had the latter, he thought sadly. Through the years he had gradually come to realize that Cindy had never really loved him—not in the fullest sense of that word. It had been a hard thing to accept. It still was.

  “Maybe you could be my daddy,” Sarah said brightly. “Then you could read me stories at night and—”

  “Sarah!”

  Eric turned to find Kate in the doorway, her face flushed.

  “What’s wrong, Mommy?” Sarah asked innocently, her eyes wide.

  Eric watched silently as Kate drew a deep breath. “Nothing’s wrong, honey. But you need to drink your soda so you can go to sleep. Then you’ll be all better tomorrow, just like Dr. Eric said.”

  Eric stood as Kate moved into the room. She avoided his eyes, and bright spots of pink still burned on each cheek.

  “I’ll let myself out,” he said quietly.

  “No.” She looked up at him, obviously still embarrassed by Sarah’s remark, though good manners took precedence. “I put the kettle on. Please stay and have a cup of tea or coffee. And some cake. It’s the least I can do after you came over here on your day off.”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “All right. I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

  Kate watched him leave, then turned back to Sarah and helped her sit up enough to drink the soda.

  “Are you mad, Mommy?” Sarah asked in a small voice.

  “No, honey. Of course not.”

  “You seemed mad when you came back in the room.”

  Kate shook her head. “I wasn’t mad, Sarah. I heard what you and Dr. Eric were talking about, and I just got sad for a minute because your daddy isn’t here with us. He loved you very much, honey. Before you were born we used to plan all the things the three of us would do together. I’m just very sorry he can’t be here to do them with us.” Kate picked up the photo from the bedside table and gently traced Jack’s face with her finger. “Don’t ever forget how much he loved you, Sarah. He’s part of you. See? You have his eyes. And you have that little dimple in your cheek, just like he had. So part of Daddy will always be with us in you.”

  Sarah studied the photo for a moment. “He was pretty, wasn’t he, Mommy?”

  Kate blinked to clear the sudden film of moisture in her eyes. “Yes, Sarah. He was very pretty.”

  “Do you think he misses us up in heaven?”

  “I’m sure he does.”

  “But he can’t come back, can he, Mommy?”

  “No, honey.”

  “Do you think he would be mad if I got a new daddy sometime? Just for while I’m down here?”

  Would he? Kate wondered, as she replaced the photo. She’d never thought of it quite that way. And in that context, she knew the answer. Jack wouldn’t want Sarah to grow up without the influence of a kind, caring father in her life. They had always talked about how they wanted her to experience all the joys of a real family—two loving parents and at least a sibling or two. Jack would still want that, even if he couldn’t be the one to provide it.

  “No, Sarah,” Kate replied slowly. “I don’t think he’d mind. Your daddy would want you to have a father.”

  “But how would I get one?” Sarah asked, clearly puzzled.

  “Well, I would have to get married again.”

  “Would you do that, Mommy?”

  “I don’t know, honey. Your daddy was a very special man. It would be hard to find someone like him again.”

  “Is Dr. Eric like him?”

  Kate glanced toward the bedroom door and dropped her voice. “I just met Dr. Eric, honey. I don’t know him well enough to answer that question.”

  Sarah scooted down in the bed a
nd pulled the covers up to her chin. Already her eyes were drifting closed. “Well, then I think you should get to know him better,” she declared sleepily.

  Kate adjusted the covers, then reached over and touched the photo of Jack, her gaze troubled. For several long moments she just sat there. She didn’t want to do anything that would diminish the love they had shared. It was a beautiful thing, and she would always treasure it in her heart. But it was only a memory now. And memories could only sustain one for so long.

  Kate sighed as she reached over and turned off the light. Even if she was ready to move on—and she wasn’t convinced that she was—Eric wasn’t available. He’d made that eminently clear. In his mind, he still had a wife. And after his first disastrous marriage, he truly believed that medicine and marriage didn’t mix. So, if and when she decided to consider romance again, she’d have to look elsewhere.

  Except, for some strange reason that plan held no appeal.

  Chapter Seven

  Eric listened to the murmur of voices as he restlessly roamed around Kate’s living room. He couldn’t distinguish the words, but he could guess what they were talking about. Sarah’s last remark had clearly embarrassed Kate. And probably upset her, as well. He suspected that she’d done everything she could to make Jack as real as possible for Sarah. But it was a hard thing to do when the little girl had no memory of him. To her he was only an image, like the characters in her storybooks, with no basis in reality. What she wanted was a real daddy—someone who could hold her hand and share her life. Kate was fighting a losing battle, Eric thought with a sigh. Sarah was too young to be comforted by stories of a father she had never known.

  Eric wandered into the kitchen, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he glanced around. The room was small but homey, with several of Sarah’s drawings displayed on the refrigerator. The remains of a hardly touched dinner lay strewn next to the sink—macaroni and cheese, green beans, salad. Sarah must have started to feel badly before they ate more than a few bites.

  His gaze swept over the eat-in counter that separated the living room and kitchen, taking in the pile of half-graded school papers, a copy of the church bulletin—and a loan statement at his elbow reflecting a balance of nearly six figures. Eric frowned and quickly glanced away. The latter was obviously private business. But he knew what the debt most likely represented: Jack’s medical bills—probably for the extended-care facility where he’d spent his last months. Eric had seen too many instances where insurance covered only certain expenses in situations like that, leaving the survivors deep in debt. He could make a reasonable guess at Kate’s salary, and he knew it would take her years to repay the loan. It just didn’t seem fair, he reflected, his frown deepening as his eyes strayed back to the statement. He could write a check for the entire amount and not even miss it. To Kate, it was obviously a fortune.

  “She’s sleeping now.”

  Eric’s gaze flew guiltily to hers and hot color stole up his neck. Kate glanced down at the counter, and a flush reddened her cheeks as she moved to gather up the papers, putting the statement at the bottom of the stack.

  “Sorry. The place isn’t usually so cluttered.”

  “I wasn’t looking, Kate. It was just lying there,” Eric said quietly. To pretend he hadn’t seen the piece of paper would be foolish.

  She sighed and her hands stilled, but she kept her eyes averted. “I know.”

  “For Jack’s care, I assume?”

  She hesitated briefly, then nodded. “The health insurance covered a lot, and the life insurance helped—later. But the expenses piled up so quickly. The debt was absolutely staggering. It still is. And with nothing to show for it,” she added wearily, her voice catching in a way that tugged at his heart.

  There was silence for a moment, and then she straightened her shoulders and looked up at him. “But you didn’t come here tonight to hear about my problems. Let me get you that cup of coffee and cake I promised.”

  Actually, he wished she would share her problems with him. But he understood her reluctance. Their acquaintance was still too new. So he let it drop, nodding instead toward the sink. “It looks like you haven’t even had dinner yet.”

  She glanced disinterestedly at the remains of the meal. “I had enough. I haven’t been that hungry lately, anyway.”

  Eric frowned as she moved to the stove to fill the kettle, his gaze sweeping over her too-thin figure. “You can’t afford to skip too many meals, Kate.”

  She shrugged as she set out two plates. “I eat when I’m hungry.”

  “Do you rest when you’re tired?”

  She paused in surprise, holding the knife motionless above the cinnamon coffee cake, and sent him a startled look. Then she turned back to her task. “I rest when there’s time.”

  “Why do I think that’s never?”

  She turned to face him again, the smile on her face tinged with sadness. “You sound like my mother.” Eric didn’t feel like her mother. Far from it. As his gaze took in her ebony hair tumbling around her face, her dark eyes shadowed with fatigue, her slender, deceptively fragile-looking form, he felt a fierce surge of protectiveness sweep over him—as well as something else he tried to ignore. He cleared his throat.

  “You’re the only mother in this room, Kate. And father, too, for that matter. It can’t be easy, raising a child alone, trying to play both roles.”

  Her eyes grew troubled, and she turned away to reach for the kettle as it began to whistle. “Listen, Eric, I’m sorry about what Sarah said. She has a way of coming out with things that aren’t always…well, discreet.”

  He waved her apology aside. “Don’t worry about it, Kate. I hear all kinds of things from kids. Most of it I don’t take seriously.”

  She placed their cake on the counter, then reached for her tea and his coffee, pushing aside the school papers as she sat on a stool next to him.

  “Looks like you have some work ahead of you,” he commented, nodding toward the pile.

  “That’s the lot of a teacher, I suppose. A never-ending stream of papers to grade. I usually work on them after Sarah goes to bed so I don’t have to give up any of my time with her.”

  He looked at her. She was seated only inches away from him—so close he could clearly discern the faint lines of strain around her mouth. “Does sleep enter into the equation anywhere?” he asked gently. “You look tired, Kate.”

  The concern in his voice touched her, and her throat tightened as an unaccustomed warmth swept over her. “I catch up on my sleep in the summer,” she replied, striving for a light tone. The truth was, she needed to take a summer job as well, at least something part-time.

  “I have a feeling you’re the kind of woman who never gives herself a break.”

  She propped her chin in her hand and played with her tea bag, swirling it in the amber liquid. “Jack always said I was too intense,” she admitted quietly. “That I took everything too seriously. But that’s just the way I am. If I commit to something, I can’t do it halfway. Like teaching. I didn’t want to go back to it. I wanted to stay home with Sarah. But that wasn’t to be. So as long as I have to work, I intend to give one hundred percent. The same with raising Sarah. I want to be the very best mother possible under the circumstances. That’s why I spend every spare minute with her. It’s why I grade papers and do lesson plans at night.” She paused and looked over at him speculatively. “You strike me as being equally committed to your profession, Eric. I can’t imagine you ever doing anything halfway.”

  He conceded the point with a nod. “You’re right. But maybe that’s not the best way to be. Sometimes I wonder if…” His voice trailed off and he stared down pensively into his coffee.

  Kate knew he was thinking about his failed marriage, and impulsively she reached over and lightly touched his hand. The simple contact jolted him. “I have a feeling you’re being too hard on yourself about…the past,” she said quietly.

  He stared down at her delicate hand as its warmth seeped in
to his very pores. It took only this simple innocent touch, filled with tender compassion, to remind him how lonely and empty his life had become. That reminder left a feeling of bleakness in its wake. Carefully he removed his hand on the pretext of reaching for his fork.

  “How did we get into such a heavy discussion?” he asked, forcing his lips up into the semblance of a smile as he speared a bite of cake.

  “I don’t know. I think we started off talking about food.”

  “Well, then, let’s get back to that topic,” he declared, “because this cake is wonderful. Did you make it?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He devoured another large bite, clearly savoring the dessert. “You know, the only time I ever have home baking anymore is at Mom’s. I could live on this cake. What it is?”

  “Sour-cream cinnamon streusel coffee cake,” she recited with a smile. “It was one of my mom’s favorite recipes. Kind of a family standard.”

  “Well, you can bake this for me anytime. I’d make more house calls if I always got treats like this in return.”

  “Do you actually make house calls?”

  “Once in a great while.”

  “Well, I’m glad you did tonight. Although my checkbook might not be,” she teased with a smile.

  Eric stopped eating for a moment and looked at her. “There’s no charge for this, Kate.”

  Her smile faded. “Wait a minute. This was a professional call, Eric. I expect to be billed. You don’t owe me any favors. And I always pay my debts.”

  He finished off the last of the cake, then stood. “Okay, then bake me one of these sometime and we’ll be even.”

  “That’s not…”

  “Kate.” He picked up his bag and turned to her. “I know you pay your debts. I saw evidence of that tonight. If you want to repay me, then do me a favor. Bake me one of these—” he tapped on the cake plate, then turned to look at her “—and get more rest. You’re doing a great job taking care of Sarah. Now you need to take care of yourself.”

  She followed him to the door, prepared to continue the argument, but when he turned there was something in his cobalt-blue eyes that made her protest die in her throat. Their expression was unreadable, but the warmth in their depths was unmistakable. And when he spoke, his voice was slightly husky.