by Dianne Drake
Thirty-four and owner of one of the fastest-growing medical illustration companies in the world. Something she’d built from the ground up. “But you think I could be at risk?”
“You could be, if you don’t slow down—which puts your baby at risk.”
Her baby. It was strange hearing that, because Ellie had never really thought of this life she was carrying as her baby. It was a baby, possibly someone else’s baby, depending on whether or not her fling wanted to be a daddy. But her baby? Hearing that gave her a maternal jolt she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t enough to make her change her mind to become a single mom, but it did make Ellie more aware of the baby she was carrying.
“Look, I’ll cut back on the hours. Eat better. But I’m not going to go home, kick my feet up and watch old movies for the next almost five months. I have to work. My company needs me, and I need it.”
“You’re just like your mother. Do you know that?” Doc Shaffer leaned back in his chair, typed something into his computer, then shook his head. “She was as driven as you are. And as stubborn.”
Ellie Landers wanted to smile at the comparison, but she couldn’t as she didn’t want to be like her mother and didn’t want to be compared to her either. “And look how successful she’s been. She owns one of the largest technology companies in Nevada.” And she’d raised a child as a single mom. Well, mostly in absentia. But she did get the credit for hiring the right people to take care of her. All this was something Ellie wasn’t prepared to do.
Children needed a real family, a parent or parents who didn’t hire someone to take their child to the playground, who didn’t pay for the most qualified caregivers but, instead, took responsibility for that care themselves. Family dinners, stories at bedtime. That’s what children needed—what Ellie had never had, and what she wasn’t able to give. Not with her job or her chosen lifestyle. That’s what Ellie had learned from her own upbringing and what she carried with her every day of her life. That kind of life wasn’t meant to be her kind of life.
Still, the dream of it—home, family. Husband. It was nice. But so ethereal it made Ellie sad. So that’s where she stopped because the rest of the dream was so vague. But the husband was not. Since Reno, she’d had a vision of him. Even more now that she was carrying his baby.
“Whatever the case, stop at Reception on your way out and schedule your next appointment. I’d like to see you back in six weeks as a precautionary measure. Also, I’ve written you a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and the name of a good physical therapist should your back spasms continue.”
“I don’t need a therapist for backache and I already take vitamins. I started the day I found out I was pregnant.”
“Which is good. But the ones I’m prescribing have more iron—you’re a little anemic, and they also have much more folic acid than anything you can get OTC, because you need folic acid. It’s for the healthy development of the brain, eyes, cells and nervous system.”
“I know,” Ellie said. “Remember, I worked in obstetrics?” She’d been a good nurse, but nursing hadn’t suited her the way she’d hoped it would. Maybe because it required nurturing in abundance, and she didn’t have a speck of it in her. She had been good at the procedural aspects, but had lacked the genuine human touch that was also needed. Ellie could see her shortcoming, and she’d honestly worked to correct it because she loved medicine, but there had always been something missing. She couldn’t define it, couldn’t describe it to her supervisor when she’d resigned from her job.
And now, ten years later, she still couldn’t define what that lack was other than she simply didn’t have a nurturer’s instinct. But she’d found her niche—medical illustration.
Ellie had always loved drawing and was pretty good at it. Had won a few childhood awards. Turned it into her minor course of study in college. So when she’d read that it was an expanding field with growth potential, she’d jumped at the chance to be part of it, anxious to combine her love of medicine with her love of drawing. Of course, more education had been required. Two additional years of study on top of the four she’d had in nursing school. In those two years, however, she’d gone from not only wanting to be an illustrator but wanting to build her own company. And it was also exciting. Even now, she had no regrets.
“Yes, I know you were a nurse—for about a minute—then you moved on. Remember that?”
“And those charts of fetal development you have hanging on the wall in your waiting room...” She smiled. She’d done them. And she’d illustrated numerous medical texts. Plus, they were doing medical videography now.
Doc Shaffer laughed. “Point taken. You’ve made a name for yourself, but that name must cut back on her hours, and get more rest. You work too hard, Ellie, and while I’m an advocate for women getting on with their lives when they’re pregnant, your life is a little over the top. In other words, baby needs some rest.”
Rest—that she would do. Even though she wasn’t going to keep this baby, she did want to give it every advantage she could coming into this world, and keeping herself healthy was the start of it. “So, is that all you want? Or would you like another pint of blood?”
Doc Shaffer chuckled. “You know what I want, and at the rate you’re going, that’s a big order.”
“Then I’ll do better,” she promised. And she would. While Ellie didn’t want the responsibility of raising a child, not with her fear of turning out to be the kind of mother hers was, she certainly didn’t want to put this baby at risk. She’d made her choice the day her dipstick had gone from blue to pink, and nothing had changed since then. She’d tell Dr. Matt McClain he was going to be a father and give him the option to raise their baby. Or she would opt for adoption, if he didn’t want to. It was all straightforward. Ellie owned a business and that was her life, all she wanted. Real babies, boyfriends and husbands were not needed.
So all Ellie had to do now was tell someone who’d expected a couple of casual days of fun at a medical convention that casual had turned into commitment. If that’s what he wanted. He’d seemed like a nice guy. A little distracted. But kind. And polite. Really good looking...traditionally tall, dark and handsome, and rugged. Dark eyes, wavy black hair, rugged. Built like she’d never seen another man built.
Just thinking about him now gave Ellie goose-bumps. The way he’d looked those couple of nights when she’d let go of her self-made business-first rules, let her hair down and lived in a fantasy that had never happened in her reality was still with her. He’d hung on in her mind long after Reno. From time to time she’d even caught herself distracted by a daydream of him. A leftover feeling she couldn’t explain and didn’t want to explore. Then the reality of those days had crept in, about six weeks later.
And now, well—all Ellie had to do was the figurative baby-in-a-basket-on-the-doorstep thing, and hope he’d take that basket in. It was his baby too and not only did he have the right to know, he had the right to be a daddy, if that’s what he wanted. Or be involved in the adoption process, if that’s what he wanted. Either way, she’d know what was going to happen soon. Ellie was glad he was out of the military now and back home, because from here she was headed straight to Forgeburn, Utah.
* * *
“It’s not a traditional medical practice,” Dr. Donald Granger explained. “But you know that since you’re from here. Most of it’s a cowboy practice now, and that’s about as tough as it gets. Then you’ve got some of the canyon resort areas with tourists who need medical care occasionally. And we do have some locals in a couple little spread-out towns. There’s a pretty fair patient base—enough to keep one doc busy.
“If you need help, the clinic in Whipple Creek will usually send someone out for a day or two, but you’ve got to keep in mind that you’re the only real medical help within a hundred miles in any direction. So what you’ll be getting is a practice that stretches out for more miles than any practical medical practice shoul
d have to, house calls that’ll take up half your day for something minor—and, yes, house calls are part of what the people here expect—and the cowboy trailers—good luck finding those.
“It’s a hard life, son. But a good one. People will appreciate you more because access to you isn’t easy for many of them. And there’s no one to rely on but you, which develops stamina. And courage. Lots of courage.”
“If it’s so good,” Matt asked, “why are you giving it up?” He had qualms about taking over a GP practice, even if only for a little while because being back home came with all kinds of bad memories, and he was afraid those might surface at the wrong times and prevent him from doing his best. Plus, he wasn’t a GP. That was another big drawback. In fact, the only good thing was that it would keep him busy, and he needed that. Lucas was a great kid, but spending every minute of every day together wasn’t good for either of them. They both needed some separation from time to time.
“I’ve been doing it for fifty years, as you know, since I took care of you when you were little. And these old bones aren’t rugged enough anymore. Also, I’ve got grandkids who don’t even know me. So it’s time for me to move on, to rest the weary bones and play with the grandkids.”
“You do realize I’m only going to be a temp here. Once the situation with Lucas gets straightened out, I have to report back to duty. They’ve given me two months, which is the time I’ve accrued for regular leave. So you’ll still have to keep looking for someone to buy you out.”
“Or close the practice for good if I can’t.” Dr. Granger held out his hands. They were knotted with arthritis. “These hands can’t do the job anymore, Matt, or I would carry on. I wouldn’t want to see this place go without a doctor, but most of the young docs coming out of medical school want something better than what I’ve got to offer, and the older docs who have had something better now want something simpler. Practicing in Forgeburn doesn’t just take love for the work, it takes love for the work here.”
That would never happen. Once child services had a good placement for Lucas, he’d be gone. Being here was only a matter of circumstances, and Matt wasn’t staying because he wanted to. He was staying for Lucas. “So, when do you want me to start?”
“Are you sure about this, Matt? Do you really want to do this?”
“No. But, I’m not staying here for me. The army has me and I’ll go back as soon as I can.”
“And that little one you’re looking after?”
“Lucas is a good kid, and I’m going to make sure I’ve found the best situation for him before I leave. If that means staying here for longer than I’d wanted, that’s what I’ll do because I don’t want him growing up the way I did. You know how it was with Janice and me, Doc—and no kid deserves that.”
“But you came through it, Matt, and look at you now.”
Yes, just look at him. The man who knew nothing about kids as temporary guardian of a child he couldn’t raise. Kids needed much more than anything he had to offer. In fact, as it stood, Matt had nothing to offer whatsoever. His life in the army didn’t mix with domesticity in any form. “But my sister didn’t, which is why I have to do what I’m doing. I owe it to her to do this for Lucas.” Even though he was sure Janice’s intention had been for him to keep the boy. But that wouldn’t work out.
“Well, OK, then. How about starting right now? Oh, and talk to Betty Nelson about watching Lucas. She’s a retired teacher. Really good with little ones. I couldn’t recommend anyone better than her.”
“I’ll do that,” Matt said, thinking back to his grade-school days. Betty Nelson had been his teacher for a year. She’d paid for his lunch, and Janice’s, when he hadn’t had money—which had been pretty much every day. And she’d made sure that he’d had his school supplies even though his dad had refused to pay for them. She’d be a perfect babysitter for Lucas, and Matt was keeping his fingers crossed she would do that. “I’ll definitely talk to her.”
So now this was where he put on his stethoscope and stepped into a completely different life. For a little while. That’s what he’d keep telling himself—for a little while.
But what if he couldn’t find a good situation for Lucas? Could he walk away from him knowing he was leaving Lucas where he, himself, had been left so many times during his own childhood?
No, he didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t want to think into the future. Reality, here and now, was good enough. Always had been because it’s all he’d ever been able to count on. Getting by, moment to moment.
Sighing, Matt held out his hand for the keys to the clinic. This was for Janice, he reminded himself. For Janice and Lucas. It didn’t make things easier, but it made him feel better. It’s what he had to do—that’s the thought that ran through his mind for the next few hours as he prepared himself mentally to be part of Forgeburn again.
The clinic was small, just as he remembered it. One underwhelming exam room with basic outdated equipment, a minor procedures room, a shared public and staff bathroom, a small reception area and waiting room, which seated only six people, and a tiny, knee-hole office. But it did have a nice storage room attached to his office, larger than he would have expected, with a window at the rear of it overlooking a rock formation in the distance.
A playroom for Lucas when Betty Nelson couldn’t watch him? Switch to a Dutch door for security, add carpeting—it was a thought. One that didn’t go away as he walked around the outside of the small white cement building that stood alone in the middle of a cracked asphalt parking lot, surrounded by sand, dirt and a lot of cacti.
The next closest structure, a small, nineteen-sixties-style hotel was, with a lot of squinting, within eyesight. There really was no upside to the medical office, nothing nice or pretty or comforting, but the house he’d also be getting as part of the deal was definitely an upside. Modestly large, fairly new, with a nice pool and beautiful canyon view. A squared-off adobe-style with an open floor plan, large kitchen—he used to love to cook—and a casita with in-home or private access. Not that he needed a casita, since he didn’t anticipate anyone ever coming to visit him. But at least it gave him an option.
* * *
“This is where we’ll be staying,” he said to Lucas the next day as they explored the outside area together, to make sure the pool was completely secured and safe, grateful Doc Granger’s one indulgence in life had been his house. It would be a good place for Lucas. Comfortable. Safe. “How about we go take a look?” He’d wanted to carry Lucas, but Lucas was often resistant to that, unless he was tired. A child with determination, Matt thought.
Lucas’s reaction was to turn his back to Matt and stare at a little brown and blue skink darting into a rock garden at the edge of the patio. It was trying to get away from prying eyes. Sort of what Matt felt like doing, to be honest. “Well, if you’re not interested in looking around today, we’ll be back tomorrow when we move in. Plenty of time for exploring then.”
Especially since Doc Granger had already vacated the place. Except for the furniture, which was staying with the house, all the personal touches were gone. And Matt had an idea Doc Granger was, right now, playing with grandkids. Which meant Matt was totally on his own here. It wasn’t an unsettling thought, but it wasn’t a comforting one either, since he knew so little about his new responsibilities. Well, live and learn. He’d make the best of it, like he was making the best of being a temporary dad.
“You ready to leave?” he finally asked Lucas, who’d gone over to the rocks, looking for the skink. Of course, Lucas didn’t answer. Neither did he take Matt’s hand when Matt extended it to him. Instead, he took an extra-firm hold on the ratty old blanket he carried with him everywhere, and trailed along next to Matt. Never too close, but never too far.
There were two cars in the parking lot. Actually, one car and a pick-up truck. And there was little to indicate this was a medical clinic except the weather-beaten sign at the edge
of the parking lot that read: “Medical Clinic”. Followed by an emergency phone number.
* * *
“Well, this is it,” Ellie said. It had become her habit to talk to her baby. While she was only just past eighteen weeks along, and babies in the womb didn’t start hearing until around twenty-three weeks, she liked the connection. Felt that, on some level, it would help her baby’s development. So she talked.
“Not what I expected. For some reason, I’d guessed your daddy to be...better established.” Of course, they’d never really talked about such things. They’d talked about other things, especially that first night—medicine, college days, the convention—but never about their own realities. That had been part of keeping it from becoming too personal. Of course, that hadn’t worked out, had it?
Ellie glanced down at her belly as she stepped out of her car. It wasn’t exactly flat now, but loose-fitting cargo pants and an oversized white, gauzy shirt still concealed the obvious. Not for much longer, though, as her naked profile was that of a woman with a bulging belly. But right now her baggy clothes kept her condition a secret from her co-workers—she didn’t want to answer all the questions—and from Matt as well, until she found the right moment to tell him.
What she didn’t want was for him to open the door to her and see her belly right off. Why shock him like that? It wouldn’t be right.
Also, she wanted to reassure herself he was someone she wanted to raise the baby because Reno hadn’t been about real life, whereas this baby definitely was. So Ellie wanted to know, see more, before she let Matt know what had happened. She’d thought about how to handle the inevitable the whole way here, and hadn’t come up with a real solution yet. Time would tell, she supposed as she entered the building, only to discover a completely empty waiting room. No patients, no receptionist. Just chairs and a desk.
“Well, it’s clean,” she whispered, as she wandered down the short hall leading to the exam room, looking for signs of life. “Anybody here?” she finally called out.