Of course he did. He’d probably spent time in his aunt and uncle’s office.
While he was gone, she weighed and measured the baby girl, jotting the figures on the paper covering the exam table. “I’ll need to make her a file,” she called. “And I need that medical consent form. Do you happen to have any of her records with you?”
He lumbered into the room holding up a disposable, formula-filled bottle, smiling as if he’d discovered precious gold. “Yes, in her bag. I’ll find them.”
“What’s her name?”
With his back to her, he ignored the question and seemed to frantically search, tossing out diapers and wipes, empty bottles and clothes. At the bottom of the bag, he found a folder. “Here it is.”
She broke the seal off the bottle, popped the top and began to feed the hungry baby, who slurped down the food. As Jake flipped through the records, Violet headed to grab another bottle to send home with him.
Sweet blue eyes stared up at her before finally turning sleepy. Violet’s chest tightened.
Holding and feeding a precious baby never failed to open up old wounds, renewing the pain of having her own baby taken from her and put up for adoption by her parents.
Yet the opportunity reminded her that there were many children around town who needed a caring touch. Needed someone to look out for them.
“She’s falling asleep.” Violet put the baby to her shoulder and patted her back. “Be sure you always burp her like this after you feed her.”
Once the baby belched, she returned her to the exam table. “I’ll do a quick check and then she can have a nap in her car seat.”
Violet glanced at Jake. He was watching every move she made, his eyes taking it all in like a first-time parent overwhelmed by a new life depending on him, afraid he’d do something wrong. She couldn’t help but smile as she examined the baby’s ears. “You never told me her name.”
* * *
Jake’s brain nearly buzzed. How could he tell this doctor that he had no idea what the child’s name was? A child in his care.
He and Dr. Crenshaw were already adversarial. And now he was going to have to admit he had no contact information for the mother. No baby name. No father’s name. No mother’s address. Nothing but a copy of hospital records from Atlanta labeled Baby Girl West. He assumed Remy had filled out a birth certificate application, so surely the girl had a legal name.
What about those papers she mentioned?
One last, frantic flip through the documents in the bag revealed a folded copy of the birth certificate paperwork crammed between two folders along with the medical consent to treat form. When he read the name on the form, Jake sucked in a breath.
Remy had named the girl after his mother.
“Abigail,” he choked out. “Her name’s Abigail.”
As the doctor continued the exam, Jake wondered at Remy’s intentions for the girl. Had she planned all along for Jake to raise Abigail? Or had the decision been sudden, born out of desperation?
“Ears look good.” Violet warmed the stethoscope and listened to the baby’s chest and back. “Heartbeat and lungs are perfect.”
With her short, wavy black hair, cut so that it flipped some at the ends, Violet looked too young to be a doctor. But despite the hair, her big, serious hazel eyes and white lab coat made her a convincing professional.
She glanced at the baby’s belly and poked around. “Umbilical cord has already fallen off. Healed nicely. She seems to be in good health.”
Relief swept through him. At least Remy had been taking good care of her.
“What’s her birth date?”
That info he did have. “She was born on the Fourth of July.”
Dr. Crenshaw pulled a sheet of paper out of a file folder and charted the weight on a graph. “Two weeks old. She’s at the fiftieth percentile. Weight, length and head circumference look good. And I also need her last name.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, frustration seemed to spark at his inability to focus and communicate basic facts.
The baby looked groggy, her belly full, content. His earlier panic inched down a notch. “Abigail West.” He glanced again at the form, his chest tightening. Remy had given the girl his dad’s middle name—which was also Jake’s middle name. “Abigail Lee, L-e-e, West.”
“Thank you,” the pediatrician mumbled, her tone adding an unspoken finally as she filled in the blanks on some sort of form.
She probably questioned his mental faculties. He was beginning to wonder himself. “Here’s that medical release form from her mother. Do you have some kind of booklet on basic infant care? I wasn’t sure about whether to boil the water or use milk for the formula. Or how to sterilize the bottles—or if I even need to. That kind of thing.”
“Don’t give her cow’s milk yet. Here.” She wrapped the baby up like a burrito and leaned close to set her in his arms. As she did, the doc’s short, flippy black hair caught on his beard and tickled his chin.
“I’ll go make Abigail’s file,” she said. “You should probably change her diaper so she’ll take a nice long nap for you.”
Diapers. There would be lots of messy diapers in his near future. The thought nearly made him wretch.
“You have changed her diaper, haven’t you?”
“No.”
“Ever changed any diaper?”
“No.” His incompetence had been revealed. Could she report someone for being an inept babysitter?
She simply sighed. “Sounds like you need a crash course.”
“I do. Would you be willing to come home with me to help get Abigail settled? I’ll pay you whatever you’d bill for, what? Four appointments in an hour? Six?”
“Do you have a friend you could ask?” Her hazel eyes were serious, concerned, as if she feared he didn’t have any friends. Which only showed she must think the worst of him. Still, for some reason, he found the concern endearing.
Caution, Jake. No matter how cute she looks with her feathery hair and big serious eyes, this conniving woman took advantage of Aunt Edith and Uncle Paul. “No, I don’t have anyone else to ask. The older ladies in my church may not know the current child-rearing recommendations. I don’t know the young moms well enough to ask a favor. And the women I’ve dated...well, none of them would be good with kids.”
She gave a derisive snort. “Not dating the maternal type, huh?”
No, his dates were more into skydiving or mountain climbing than children. But he wasn’t going to stoop to answer her snooty question. She could think badly of him all she wanted. He didn’t value her opinion unless it had to do with Abigail. “I’ll pay you. Just name your price.”
“My price? Quit bad-mouthing me to people in town.”
Stunned by her bluntness, he huffed. “I’ve only spoken the truth.”
“There’s no way you know every detail of the contract negotiations. Get the facts straight before you start smearing someone’s reputation.”
Oh, he knew all about the contract negotiations between her and Paul and Edith—and how she’d found fault with the way the business had been run, had brought in her expensive Atlanta lawyer to do her bidding. Jake even knew the final sale price—which he thought entirely too low for something his aunt and uncle had built for decades, since before Jake’s parents died.
Looking around the room at the same child-friendly posters and colorful furniture his aunt and uncle had lovingly put in place made him sad. Jake wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t let the doctor from the huge city clinic come in acting as if his family were bumpkins, and taking advantage of them, without repercussions.
Despite his opinion of her, though, he needed her help. For the baby’s sake. “Will you please help me with Abigail?” The words grated in his throat, nearly choking him.
She stared into his eyes until the moment became
uncomfortable. Briefly, he thought he saw pain, but then the pediatrician snatched a diaper out of the bag. “Helping you set up for a baby is not something I can bill as a medical service.”
“I’ll pay you directly, like a babysitting subcontractor.”
“I’ll give you an hour.”
The tension in his shoulders relaxed as he laid Abigail on the exam table. “Thank you.”
Violet made quick work of the diaper, so smoothly the little gal barely stirred from her sleep. “I’ll teach you to do this on her next diaper change.”
Once she was done, she handed the baby back to him. He gently buckled her into her car seat, even managing not to wake her. Maybe he’d get the hang of this temporary fatherhood job after all.
As he lifted the carrier, Abigail suddenly cried out as if in some sort of pain.
“Did your cousin happen to mention the baby being colicky?” the doc asked over the screeching cries.
He swung the car seat back and forth, trying to soothe her. “No.”
“This might be a long few nights for you, Jake.”
Few nights? If only...
“That diaper bag is all I have,” he said. “I guess I need to stop and buy some supplies on the way home.”
“I don’t mind picking up the basics for you before I come over.”
“But—”
“You can pay me back later.”
Before he could refuse, she said, “I heard you moved into your aunt and uncle’s house. I’ll be there shortly.” She was no-nonsense, used to being obeyed. She breezed out of the room, presumably to show him out.
When they reached the front door, she unlocked it and held it open.
“I appreciate it.” With a nod, he headed out, his tiny second cousin or cousin-once-removed or whatever she was to him blasting his ears.
“Come on now, Abigail,” he cooed in his best soothing voice, a tone he didn’t even know he could make.
He lifted her carrier to the truck’s backseat. Once again, he struggled to buckle the car seat in place.
“How about I show you how to do that?” Violet said from behind him.
When he agreed, she made her way between him and the truck, spun the car seat around backward and scooted it to the middle seat belt. “Infants this age must be rear-facing. And there’s supposed to be a base that stays in your vehicle that the seat latches into. Until you buy a new one, which I recommend, the strap goes through here.” She pointed to a slot on the back. With the seat facing the correct direction, the seat belt easily slipped through and locked Abigail in place.
“Now that makes perfect sense,” he said with a laugh. “Should have thought of it myself.”
Violet turned and faced him, looking satisfied. She was so close the evening sun reflected off flecks of gold in her eyes.
He stepped back, allowing her to slip past him. She did so quickly and darted toward the office building, as if anxious to get away.
He felt almost guilty for the things he’d thought and said about her. Almost. “Thank you, Dr. Crenshaw. I know you didn’t have to do all this, to go the extra mile.”
She stiffened as if surprised and glanced at him over her shoulder. “My purpose in life is to help children, Mr. West.”
Of course she wasn’t acting out of kindness toward him. But he could live with that.
With a nod, she stepped inside and shut the door.
Hoping the sound of the engine might help lull Abigail to sleep, Jake hopped in and started the truck. By the time he’d driven halfway home, she had quieted.
Thank You, Lord.
Now, if You’d just help me find a way not to alienate the doc before Remy gets back, I’d be doubly grateful.
Chapter Two
Violet walked up to the front door of the cute, brick Craftsman-style bungalow with its perfectly landscaped and manicured lawn. The West home backed up to her tiny rental house. Literally. Nothing but a low row of hedges separated their backyards.
The huge front porch with a swing and window boxes cascading with petunias invited her to come sit a while. Exactly the feeling she’d dreamed about having in a small town. If only she could find time to make some friends.
Holding three bags of newborn necessities in her left hand, she rapped on the door with the other. Time to show this clueless man how to take care of his baby cousin.
Jake opened the door, his broad shoulders and husky physique filling the space, making her stomach flutter.
No, no fluttering allowed.
“Hey, come on in,” he said as he reached for the bags with strong arms. “Let me take those.”
He appeared to be six-one or six-two, maybe two hundred twenty-five pounds. A large man, built of solid muscle without a pinch of fat.
“Thanks, but, uh...” Focus. “There’s more in the car. I left it open for you.”
“Got it. You can head on back to the kitchen.”
She stepped inside and passed through a well-used living room fitted with older, broken-in furniture. Abigail slept soundly in her carrier on the worn tweed couch. Violet kept going until she found the kitchen and then began to unload the bags.
The outdated furnishings, which must have belonged to Edith and Paul West, lent a homey feel, something her parents’ home had lacked because her mother hired a decorator to redo the house every few years.
A small, drop-leaf breakfast table by the window, however, looked new. On it sat an opened newspaper beside a laptop computer. Discarded after breakfast or when his cousin showed up needing a babysitter?
Other than the newspaper, everything was in its place, neat as a pin, and wasn’t at all what she would picture for a busy bachelor. Surprisingly, the rooms felt welcoming.
For some reason, the tidy, cozy home didn’t fit with Jake’s overgrown, wavy brown hair, closely trimmed beard and rugged, mountain-man looks.
Shaking her head, she laughed. What had she expected? A tent and camping stove?
“Disposable diapers,” he declared as he entered the room and plopped the bags on the counter. “Lots of diapers. Enough to single-handedly overload the county landfill.”
“Abigail will use all of those in about a week.”
“No kidding?” He tucked all but one of the packs in the pantry. “Guess I need to practice changing her, but I hate to wake her.”
“We can work on the feeding first.”
She pointed to a case of already-prepared formula. “I figured you’d rather splurge on ready-to-feed formula instead of having to mix the powder.”
“Good call.”
She held up a carton and gave instructions on how to heat it.
He pulled bottles out of the diaper bag. “These are the ones Remy sent.”
Examining their condition, Violet wrinkled her nose. One was coated with the curdling remnants of formula. The nipples looked worn. Too worn, as if Remy had gotten them as hand-me-downs. “You know, I think since you don’t know where these have been, we’ll boil them first. And we can throw some of them away. I bought a few new ones.”
His expression hardened. “My cousin may not have the best of everything, but I don’t think she would expose her baby to unsanitary conditions.”
Spoken as if he thought Violet was used to having the best of everything. The fact he must think her haughty nipped at her conscience. How many times had she been mortified by her mother’s snobbish actions? She’d vowed never to have that same attitude.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. But nipples do wear out and tear, which could choke the baby. We have to be careful.”
With tense shoulders easing, he let out a breath. “Okay.”
“We also need to boil the new bottles and nipples before the first use. Do you have a large soup pot we can use?”
&nbs
p; He opened cabinet after cabinet, searching. The man was obviously a bachelor because the shelves were mostly empty.
“Found this.” He pulled out a pan that was big enough to heat a can of soup.
“You don’t cook, huh?”
“I know how, but I’m not here much. I make sandwiches for lunch and give Edna a lot of business at the diner.”
“I’m glad I brought you a case of sample bottles to get you through until you can buy a larger pan.” She couldn’t help but wonder at how much sense his cousin, Remy, had to leave a baby here.
Pulling out an informational brochure she’d brought with her, she showed him how to clean bottles with the brush she’d purchased and how to use the dishwasher for future washings. He seemed to be taking in all the information and even jotted notes.
Satisfied, she pulled out the baby monitor she’d picked up at the hardware store. “Now, you’ll need this so you’ll hear Abigail when she cries during the night.”
The wary look on his face was comical. He had no idea how his life was about to change.
“I guess she needs a room. And a crib.”
Violet’s stomach sank. “You mean you don’t have a place for her to sleep?”
“Well, there are two extra bedrooms,” he sputtered, looking offended. “I had no notice about Remy dropping off the baby.”
She wouldn’t ask more questions and risk him getting his back up. “Don’t put her in your bed. Just remove the comforter, pillows and blankets and put her on the guest bed for tonight. Tomorrow, you can buy a crib. Since it’s short-term, a portable one will be fine.”
At his look of further confusion, she let out a sigh. “Can I use your computer? I’ll show you the items you’ll probably need to buy.”
He pointed her toward the table. “Good idea. Will you listen for Abigail while I go change out of my work clothes?”
“Sure.”
While he banged around in a nearby bedroom, Violet carried the laptop to the living room, where the baby was sleeping. She pulled up the website for a local discount store and put a fairly long list of items in the shopping cart.
Down the hallway, water ran for a few minutes. Before long, Jake showed up with wet hair and wearing jeans and a cottony soft T-shirt, smelling clean and way too appealing.
Love Inspired May 2015 #2 Page 2