Made in Heaven

by McGoldrick, May

  “Damn! What’s the matter with...?”

  “She’s fifteen, for god’s sake! But I have to hear it from one of the nurses. Fifteen!”

  He pulled the shirt away from his skin and glared back at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman behind the desk pick up a phone. “You are mad at me because I didn’t tell you her age?”

  “You’re a goon on top of being a jerk!” She shoved him hard in the chest with both hands. “You should be taken out and shot.”

  He couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Now wait a minute. That seems like too severe a punishment, don’t you think?”

  “You think it’s funny?” She let out a frustrated breath. She poked a finger threateningly into his chest. “I know there has to be a law in this state that will take care of you. See how funny you think this is from jail! You’ll be...”

  “Mr. Knight?”

  Evan wrapped one hand tightly around hers, forcing it down from his chest. He turned toward the woman who had just came in through the double doors.

  “Dr. Patton,” he acknowledged, remembering her name from this morning.

  “I assume you’ve already heard that Jada had a baby boy.”

  Evan nodded, ignoring his accuser’s covert struggle to free her hand. “How is she doing?”

  “Jada’s exhausted, but she’ll be fine after a good night’s rest. Over two hours of pushing is tough for anyone. But she was a champ. And the baby...”

  “Something wrong?” he asked anxiously, not liking the doctor’s pause.

  “No! No! As we discussed this morning, Jada was three weeks early, so at four pounds eight ounces, the baby is a bit underweight. But other than that, his Apgar score was fine.”

  Evan looked at her blankly, and to his relief the doctor continued.

  “The Apgar score is a number given to infants after the initial assessment of color, tone, activity, respiratory rate, and heart rate. And, considering the mother’s age and the early delivery, the infant did fairly well.”

  His fiery passenger was still trying to wrest her hand out of Evan’s grasp, but he didn’t let go.

  “So what’s the problem?” he said to the doctor.

  “I would like to keep Jada and the baby here the full two days. We do release many of our mothers after twenty four hours. But talking to our social workers and understanding that Jada would be home alone, I think it would be best for both of them to be here the extra day.”

  Evan nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

  “As a friend of the family and in the absence of her father, you’ve been a great help. Jada tells me she’s put you through a lot of trouble and...”

  “She’s been no trouble. There’s a lot more that I’d like to do for her.”

  “Well, you’ll have your chance,” the doctor added. “Once she gets released, the weight of responsibility on her will affect every aspect of her life. The surge of hormones alone is enough to depress any new mother, but in her case, being so young and a single mother...” She shook her head. “When did you say her father will be back?”

  “He’s a fisherman! He expected to be back by the middle of next week at the latest.”

  “Well, this is when you could be most help.”

  The doctor looked at Evan and then turned to the silent woman at his side. Evan noticed that, for the first time, she wasn’t struggling to free her hand. He released her.

  “It was Meg, wasn’t it?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes. Meg Murphy.”

  “You were a great help to her in there, Ms. Murphy.” Dr. Patton smiled. “It was your first time, though, wasn’t it?”

  “Did it show?”

  “No! You did great! She really responded to you. I hope, between you and Mr. Knight, that you can manage to be around Jada and the baby a lot. For the first couple of weeks, anyway. At least until Jada’s father gets back.”

  Before Evan could open his mouth, the doctor continued.

  “Of course, the hospital will send a visiting nurse to her house during the first week to make sure everything is going well. But beyond the daytime visits, I don’t think it would be wise for her to be left totally alone. I can’t say enough how overwhelming life will seem to Jada over the next few weeks.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Evan said decisively. This morning, hanging around waiting, he’d had a chance to speak to some of the hospital social workers and had found out that a lot of these visiting nurses, for additional charge, were willing to offer around the clock care to new mothers. The only thing was that he’d have to make Jada believe that the money for the extra care was coming out of her insurance, and not Evan’s wallet.

  He was still sorting through all that needed to be done when the doctor left them. He turned and found Meg Murphy sitting on a nearby chair with her face buried in her hands. He dumped what remained of his coffee in a trash can, and took the seat next to her.

  “Listen, I’m sorry you got dragged into all this.” He patted her on the knee. “About all those things the doctor just said about you and me taking care of Jada. I want you to know that I’ve already started the ball rolling on that. You’ve been great, but that little girl’s problems aren’t yours to worry about. You’ve already done more than...”

  She turned her deep, brown eyes on him, and he found himself forgetting his words. She’d pushed up her glasses on top of her head, and it occurred to him that she looked so much younger--so delicate without them. Her dark eyes and pale complexion, framed with the dark hair, made her look almost exotic. He took a moment and studied her face.

  “I am so sorry!”

  He leaned down on his knees and stared into her eyes. “You should be...and it’s about time you apologized!”

  She smacked his leg with the back of her hand before straightening up. “I am serious!”

  “So am I!” he scolded. “You accused me of impregnating a child.”

  “I did not!” She brought down her glasses onto the bridge of her nose. “Not directly, anyway. And she’s not a little girl. It was...it was just the circumstances and...”

  “You were thinking the worst of me.”

  “I...I don’t even know you.” She pushed her hair behind one ear--a movement that he found quite attractive--and looked at him straight on. “In the cab, before we picked her up, I just thought she was your wife or your girlfriend. I mean, you were rushing like a madman to get to her. And then, your concern for her after...I just thought...” She stopped and after a long pause lowered her voice. “I’m sorry!”

  He let another moment go by before answering. “It’s okay.”

  She nodded and gave him a half smile. “I’m going to call for a cab now. If you don’t mind telling me where you’re parked, I need to get my stuff.”

  “No need,” he said, coming to his feet. “I’ll take you myself. The doctor already said that Jada will need her rest. Just give me a minute to poke my head in and say hi to her, then we’ll be on our way.”

  By the time Evan visited Jada and the baby, completed filling out another half a dozen forms, called old Mrs. Jeffers with the news, and finished making the necessary arrangements for her post-hospital care, the minute he’d asked for had stretched into the long side of an hour. But as he and Meg headed down to the parking lot, he felt better about the situation. At least he knew Jada was comfortably ensconced in a room that she would be sharing with another new mother, and that she would be getting some much needed rest.

  And even better, the brown-haired woman warrior walking beside him had never complained once. After reaching his cab, he was pleased to see, she even took the seat next to him, rather than getting into the back seat.

  They drove in silence to the Inn she was staying at out on Ocean Drive. But as he went up the long winding driveway of the place, he mentally kicked himself for not asking more questions of her.

  The Inn at Castle Hill was glowing with the last orange rays of the sun as they rounded the last bend. But then, as he looked at the Merce
des, Jags, and BMW’s in the parking lot, Evan was jarred with the thought that this Meg Murphy was exactly the type of woman that he’d been working so hard of late to avoid. The type with money and arrogance. The type that measured you by the size of your stock portfolio. He’d had his share of the type in years past, and he had no intention of going that route again. He stole a glance at her direction and found her gazing longingly at the rambling, old Inn.

  “Your first time here?” he growled.

  “No,” she said quietly. “We...I always stay here.”

  Just as he’d figured. Evan swung sharply into the circular driveway. The most expensive place to stay in town. It would figure, he thought. She would be meeting up with someone here. His gaze dropped on reflex to the ring on her left hand. The cab screeched to a stop by the front door.

  “Well, here we are,” she said with an odd note in her voice that he couldn’t decipher.

  “Yeah. Better late than never, I guess.” He muttered under his breath.

  She extended her hand, looking at the hack license. “Mr. Knight.”

  He wrapped his fingers around hers. “Ms. Murphy.” She had long delicate fingers. A strong grip.

  “This certainly was an experience. One I’ll never forget.” She slowly withdrew her hand. “So, how much do I owe you?”

  “Forget it.”

  “No, I insist.”

  “I said forget it.”

  “Well, thanks,” she said pleasantly, opening the door. “Maybe I’ll see you around town.”

  “Don’t count on it.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Meg stared wearily into the face of the young man bent over the open book. She hadn’t wanted to believe what she had just been told, so she’d asked, begged, and finally demanded that the desk clerk check the records again and hand her a key.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Murphy. But we show no record of you reserving this room...”

  “That’s it!” Meg whispered through clenched teeth. “Get me the manager!”

  “But she’ll just tell you...”

  “I want to see the manager!” she snapped.

  “Okay,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “But the Inn’s full, and...”

  Meg slapped her palm smartly on the polished wood of the counter. “Get the manager.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so drained. The twitch of anger poked like needles at her scalp, and Meg felt her knees wobble beneath her weight.

  She’d known longer days in her life, but never before had she had to face the emotional ups and downs of helping a fifteen-year-old give birth.

  The desk clerk returned in a minute, trailing the manager, an attractive woman with long, brown hair. The woman looked at her, recognition lighting up her face.

  “Oh...hi! Yes, Ms. Murphy. You were here last year and the year before, if I remember right.”

  “That’s right,” Meg said, feeling hopeful for the first time. “And the twelve years before that, too.”

  “George says there’s some confusion about your reservation.”

  “There’s no confusion. I made my reservation--the same reservation I make every year--and I want to check in.”

  “Hmm.” the woman looked down at the book. “George, you checked everything? The cancellations?”

  “There was no cancellation,” Meg said, her tone testy enough to cause the manager to glance up at her.

  “Yeah, I did,” he answered. “No record of it, Mary. Anywhere.”

  “Here it is!” She looked up with an embarrassed smile. “The reservation is for next Wednesday.”

  “Next Wednesday?” Meg murmured vaguely.

  “Yes. Look for yourself. Murphy, the Tower Room, next Wednesday to the following Wednesday.”

  Meg stared in disbelief. Sure enough, the reservation was clearly marked in the book.

  “But that’s impossible! For fifteen years we...I have been coming here. It’s always been this week!”

  “Sorry. We have a pretty good system for...”

  Meg put her hand pleadingly on the woman’s arm. “Don’t you have any room. Mary, isn’t it? Isn’t there any room at the Inn?” Jeez, she thought, this was starting to sound like a Christmas play.

  The manager slowly shook her head. “And I’m afraid you’re going to have a tough time, Ms. Murphy. With the Boat Show this week, and the Heart Ball Sunday night, this is the one week in September when everything in town will be booked. I’m sorry.”

  She felt like crying. Staring at the politely indifferent expressions of the two standing behind the desk, Meg considered throwing a fit. But she knew it would do no good. They’d probably seen better tantrums than she could throw.

  She picked up her briefcase and carrying bag. “Cancel my reservation for next week. And call me a cab, will you?”

  “Perhaps the Visitor’s Center can do something...”

  “Just call me a cab,” Meg said, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “I’ll wait outside.”

  She didn’t know where she’d go or what she’d do, but she wasn’t about to stand the humiliation of having those two look at her like she’d lost her mind. It didn’t matter what they said, she knew she made the reservation for the right dates. It had to be their screwed up system that had lost her week.

  By the time she stepped outside the double entry doors, the golden sunset was only a purple memory in the western sky. A night breeze had sprung up, and she gazed out at mouth of the bay, at the black ocean beyond, and at the lights of a barge making its way slowly out the channel.

  Meg took a deep breath and tried to fight back the gloom that was closing in on her soul. So what if there was no room for her in this place? She’d find a room elsewhere. In fact, her budget was tight enough without the added weight of the Inn’s expense. She didn’t need this kind of lavish self pampering. When the cab arrived, she’d go right down to that Visitor’s Center. There had to be someplace where she could find a roof over her head.

  Out of the darkness, a young couple walked up from the paths that ran along the cliffs. She stepped aside to let them pass into the Inn. They looked like lovers. Just married, maybe. Or perhaps having a little fling, as her friend Rebekah the cynic would so aptly put it.

  Meg, she’d say, you should have a little fling. Put aside the work, the worry, even the concern about if he’s Mr. Right. What you need is a fall weekend for yourself!

  You Meg, she’d continue, are the bookworm variety romantic. You like the idea, you dream up the scenarios, but then--when a real guy asks you out on a date--you turn tail and crawl back into the cocoon of those pages.

  But that’s not fair, Meg would correct. She’s had her days. When Robert was alive, they’d had their days of romance, the getaways, the strolls in the sunset.

  But that was back in the Dark Ages, Rebekah would argue.

  Wrong. That was now--during their week together--Meg would always think. Robert always came back to her during this week.

  “So where are you, Robert?” she murmured, watching as the lights of the barge disappeared from sight.

  The slow, retching sound of an engine struggling to come to life drew her gaze toward the darkness of the drive. Out there, on the grass shoulder just beyond the curve of the circular driveway, the pale shape of a lonely cab was barely visible. As she looked, a tall figure emerged from behind the wheel and, clicking on a little pen light, moved to look under the open hood.

  Him! she thought, not really surprised at the unexpected jolt of satisfaction at seeing him. Something had passed between them in the cab, and Meg was sure that they had both felt it. But then, in an instant, he had closed up like a fist, and she had left him. Now, wrestling to contain her excitement at seeing him here, she lifted the handle of her carrying bag onto one shoulder and dashed down the stone stairs.

  Other than the rush of the tide and a bell buoy in the harbor, the only sound under the blue velvet sky was the crunch of gravel beneath the soles of her sensible shoes. She was still a dozen steps from the car
when she heard him mutter something obscene and slam the hood shut.

  Behind her, a faraway ship’s horn echoed off the bluffs, and somewhere to her left, an owl hooted in response. Meg slowed her steps, hoping he would notice her approach. He did.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked, coming around the car.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.” She built up her courage and stepped closer.

  “The car--”

  “My room--”

  They both started and stopped at the same time.

  “You first.” He leaned against the car door.

  “There was some confusion about my room.” She dropped her bag and briefcase on the ground next to her feet. “Now, I know I made the reservation for this week, but they claim that they aren’t expecting me until next week. And it doesn’t seem to matter what I say or do, it’s their word against mine...and too bad for me. So here I am, out of luck and out of a room.”

  She watched him cross his arms over his chest and give her a once over look that made her stomach flutter. Unconsciously, she returned the favor. For the first time she noticed the fit of the blue denim shirt over his broad chest. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal strong forearms. And a pair of snug jeans hugged narrow hips and strong legs that were crossed casually at the ankle. Realizing what she was doing, Meg caught herself and looked up into his amused face.

  “So what did you have in mind?” he asked, a suggestive hint in his voice.

  Her answer was quick. “They already called in to send a cab for me. The manager in there told me that the Visitor’s Center has a service...”

  “They are closed!” he cut in casually, pushing away from the car. “After Labor Day, they close that desk at six.”

  She swallowed an anxious lump that was rising in her throat and frowned back toward the double glass doors of the Inn, shining brightly in the darkness of the night.

  “Perfect,” she said. “Perhaps, if I call around...”

  “It’ll be tough to find a place this late,” he interrupted. “There’s a big charity banquet this weekend--the Heart Ball. Old money, politicians, the whole bit. And then there’s the usual rat race of the weekend. You can count on most of the places downtown being booked all week.”