The Surprise Holiday Dad

by Jacqueline Diamond

  Wade chuckled. Seated on the edge of the bed, he seemed in no hurry to depart, and until she’d drained the cup, Adrienne wasn’t eager to kick him out.

  In keeping with the wedding’s fall colors and casual atmosphere, he wore a brown jacket over a gray knit shirt and tan slacks. On the patio, he’d almost faded into the background, but his air of calm alertness reminded Adrienne that she’d once pictured him as a crouching lion.

  “Nearly everyone’s gone,” he told her. “We packed a bunch of leftovers in the fridge.”

  “Those belong to the bride and groom.”

  “They took some,” he assured her. “We folded the chairs and tables and put everything on the patio in case of rain. Not that there’s any in the forecast.”

  “The caterer will collect them tomorrow afternoon.” She’d given instructions to enter through the side gate. “Where’s Reggie?”

  “He and Mia are helping the groom’s mother with the dishes.”

  Everything was in order, thanks in large part to Wade. The only downside was that the rumors already circulating must have gained a quantum boost. “Did people ask what you were doing here?”

  “I told them you hired me as your butler.” He kept a straight face until Adrienne nudged him with her sheet-clad knee.

  Wade flashed a boyish grin. It went straight to her head, or was that the caffeine?

  One more sip and she’d be finished. Adrienne wished she could roll over and close her eyes for a few minutes. Or pull this handsome guy down on the bed and show him what I’d like to do with my butler.

  Good thing he couldn’t read her mind, she mused as she downed the last swallow.

  “In the morning I’d like to take Reg with me while I check out a place to rent,” Wade said. “My dad and I reached a parting of ways.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Any breach in a family was unfortunate. “Was it about his drinking?”

  “Basically, yes.” Wade didn’t object to her nosy question, Adrienne noticed, but neither did he elaborate. “Maybe I’ll try one of those weekly suites near the hospital until I find something long-term.”

  In the cozy circle of her bedside lamp, with the empty cup warming her palms, Adrienne felt like inviting him to stay here. They had two extra bedrooms, and Reggie would be delighted. Having Wade on hand would simplify her life in countless ways.

  And complicate it beyond measure.

  In addition to her attraction, which surely she had enough willpower and good judgment to control, lay a bigger issue: her nephew’s sense of stability. Who could tell whether they’d prove compatible roommates or how long Wade would stay? And suppose he found another woman to share his bed and possibly his future?

  “That sounds like a plan.” Adrienne set the cup aside.

  “I talked to your friends about the properties they’re vacating, as you suggested.” Wade took the cup and rose. “The rents are a bit higher than I can pay. But at least I’ve started my search.”

  “Good.” Adrienne watched his well-built body stride from the room. As the door closed, the air quivered with his indefinable scent—part soap, part pure masculinity—tempting her to call him back.

  But she’d made the right decision by letting him go. Firmly, she tossed the covers aside and went to dress for work.

  * * *

  THE PATIENT, A twenty-one-year-old unmarried college student named Judi Finnegan, had been in active labor for six hours, Adrienne noted on the chart. Her cervix was five centimeters dilated and 70 percent effaced, or thinned—still not ready for delivery—but she was 100 percent distraught.

  “Just get it over with!” she was shouting at the nurse when Adrienne entered the room. There was no one else present—no family, no father, no labor coach.

  “The contractions are four minutes apart, Doctor,” the nurse told Adrienne. “She hasn’t had any childbirth classes but she’s refusing to consent to an epidural during delivery.” The local anesthetic would relieve her pain while allowing her to stay alert and participate in the birth process.

  The pain having receded, the young woman collapsed on her bed, face turned away from the monitoring equipment that showed her and the baby’s heart rate. Her jaw was set stubbornly.

  After introducing herself and asking a few questions—Judi merely grunted in reply—Adrienne asked the nurse for a minute alone with the patient. She pulled over the guest chair.

  “If we administer an epidural, it will ease the pain,” she said. “I gather you object?”

  Light brown hair drenched with sweat, Judi took a couple short, shallow breaths. “If it doesn’t hurt, I might not hate it.”

  And I thought I’d heard everything. “You mean the baby?”

  A tight nod was the answer.

  Despite her dismay, Adrienne refrained from lecturing the young woman about the miracle of life. The chart said she was estranged from her parents and that the father wasn’t involved.

  “Is there anyone I can call to help you through this?” Adrienne asked.

  “No,” Judi said angrily. “I’ve decided to give it up for adoption. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to care about it.”

  “Have you made arrangements with adoptive parents?” They might provide support.

  “Not yet. Can’t someone else take care of that?”

  The hospital had a social worker on staff. “I’m sure we can work that out.”

  However, the fact that Judi hadn’t contacted anyone regarding adoption, combined with her present agitation, indicated she wasn’t at peace with her decision. Adrienne respected mothers who chose to surrender their infant to a loving home, but if this patient gave the infant away without confronting her conflicted emotions, she might suffer lifelong trauma.

  “For now, let’s focus on your delivery,” she told the young woman. “My medical advice is to have the epidural. It will reduce your blood pressure, which is a little high, and ease the workload on your muscles and lungs.”

  Tears ran down Judi’s round cheeks. “My boyfriend said he loved me and we’d raise our child together, and now he’s gone.”

  “Some men are like that,” Adrienne sympathized.

  “I told my parents to stop trying to control me. Now that Brian’s gone, I won’t beg them to take me back. They’ll use it against me for the rest of my life.” Judi’s muscles tightened, viselike. “Not again!”

  After summoning the nurse, Adrienne said, “You don’t have to suffer like this when you deliver. Think about having that epidural, okay?”

  There was no answer. Leaving the young woman with the nurse, Adrienne went to check on her other laboring patients.

  A short while later she was pleased to learn that Judi had agreed to the local anesthetic. Adrienne returned to provide support as Judi weathered another labor pain. “You’re very brave,” she said after it passed.

  The young woman turned her head away. “I’ve messed up my life. I’m such a failure.”

  “We all make mistakes,” Adrienne pointed out.

  “I had my life all planned,” Judi said miserably. “Now Brian’s gone and everything’s ruined.”

  Rather than dwell on the faithless boyfriend, Adrienne noted, “Your chart says you’re a college student. What are you studying?”

  “Journalism.” The young woman shifted to let the nurse plump her pillows.

  “You can still pursue that, with or without a baby.”

  “I’d like to write about medical topics.” Judi stopped talking to sip some water.

  “Such as what you’re experiencing tonight?” Adrienne said, only half joking.

  The patient smiled weakly. “I used to think I’d like to be a physical therapist. Guess I’m not sure what—” Her muscles tightened once again as a fresh contraction hit. Adrienne held her hand while a n
urse talked Judi through the pain.

  It had just ended when Adrienne’s phone beeped with a message: another patient to be checked. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  I had my life all planned. The declaration replayed through Adrienne’s mind as she went about her duties. Her plans for Reggie’s future had seemed cast in concrete, too.

  Another beep. The pace was picking up.

  As if to compensate for the previous night’s lull, this shift kept her on her feet. She was more grateful than ever not to have to deal with supervising Reggie tomorrow.

  Then she recalled that he’d be spending the day tagging along while Wade rented a motel suite. A man cave, most likely. They’d have a great time.

  “Dr. Cavill? We’re ready for you.” It was the nurse assisting Judi, who’d entered the transition phase half an hour ago.

  “I’m on my way.”

  She found the patient fully effaced and dilated and ready to push. The birth process was exhausting but, thanks to the epidural, not agonizing.

  The little girl’s muscle tone, color, reflexes, heart rate and breathing all fit into the normal range on the Apgar scale, and she weighed a healthy seven pounds eight ounces. “Do you have a name picked out?” asked a pediatric nurse.

  “No!” Judi answered fiercely. The nurse blinked in surprise.

  Normally, Adrienne would have placed the baby on her mother’s stomach while the nurse dried the newborn and covered her with a blanket and tiny cap. Instead, she asked, “Do you want to hold her?”

  For a moment, she thought Judi might shout another refusal. Instead, the girl asked, “Can I wait?”

  “You bet.” With a nurse’s help, Adrienne clamped and cut the umbilical cord and collected a tube of blood from it for testing.

  How she longed to cuddle the little plum-colored cutie with her wrinkly skin and head still cone shaped from passing through the birth canal. Instead, she released the nameless baby to be taken to the nursery.

  Adrienne didn’t dwell on the irony that babies were so often born unwelcome. If she’d become pregnant as an unmarried girl, she wasn’t sure what she’d have done, either.

  At 6:00 a.m., two hours before her shifted ended, she put in a call to someone who might be able to assist. Then, after making the rounds of the patients who’d been admitted during the night, she visited Judi.

  Alone in a double room, the young woman lay dozing. About to slip out, Adrienne paused when Judi said, “Dr. Cavill?”

  “Hi.” She stepped closer. “How’re you doing?”

  Large hazel eyes fixed on her. “You must think I’m awful.”

  “I think you’re doing your best to make the right choice,” Adrienne corrected.

  “Maybe I deserve this.” Her mouth quivered. “A few years ago I was a volunteer here. There were all these girls showing up to surrender their babies ’cause they confused the name with the Safe Haven law. I thought it was a funny story and I told my cousin at the newspaper about them. Like it was some kind of joke. Now the joke’s on me.”

  What an exaggerated sense of guilt this poor girl carried. “Listen, there’s someone I’d like you to talk to.”

  “Who?” Judging by the suspicious tone, Judi feared Adrienne meant her parents.

  “She’ll be here any minute.” Peering into the hall, Adrienne was relieved to see a tall woman heading their way, blond hair pulled into a ponytail that emphasized her sharp features.

  After they greeted each other, Adrienne turned to the patient. “Judi, meet Dr. Samantha Forrest. Sam’s a pediatrician who does volunteer counseling with young moms.”

  The patient pressed her lips together as if she might reject the offer. Then she said, “Aren’t you the one they call Fightin’ Sam?”

  “That’s me.” Samantha had earned the nickname by standing up for “her girls.”

  “I remember how much you cared about those moms who were giving up their babies. Thanks for calling her, Dr. Cavill.”

  “Good luck,” Adrienne said, and left the two of them alone.

  An hour later, near the end of the shift, Sam stopped by to say Judi had called her parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Finnegan were overjoyed. They hadn’t been able to reach their daughter for months and they’ve been worried sick.”

  Adrienne thanked her for responding so quickly. The pediatrician had a husband and family of her own, as well as a busy schedule, yet she’d set everything aside to come in early.

  “Are you kidding? I’m a born-and-bred do-gooder,” Sam replied cheerily.

  And I’m a born-and-bred fool, Adrienne mused. Because it had finally hit her that she was still trying to control every aspect of her life, as if that were possible.

  Maybe, like Judi, she ought to take a chance and see what happened.

  Chapter Twelve

  At 6:00 a.m., a pajama-clad Reggie popped into Wade’s room. “Morning, Dad! Let’s do something.”

  Rolling over, Wade scratched his stubbly chin. While rising early on a Saturday might not be on his list of favorite activities, he had plenty of energy and a clear head. “Go get dressed, sport, and I’ll do the same.”

  “I can make coffee,” the boy said brightly.

  That startled Wade. “You know how?”

  “I’ve watched Aunt Addie. I can figure it out.”

  Wade pictured coffee grounds everywhere and a resulting brew either thick as cheese sauce or thin as a perp’s alibi. Not to mention the possibility of burned hands or a broken carafe. “Tell you what.” Wade swung his legs out of bed. “Let’s eat out instead.”

  Never mind the refrigerator full of food. They’d save that for dinner.

  “Waffle Heaven, okay?”

  The restaurant, a few blocks from Fact Hunter, had been a favorite in Wade’s younger years. “You bet.”

  “Yay!” His son sped off.

  Since Reg had taken a bath last night, Wade commandeered the shower in their shared bathroom. Hot water sluiced over him, banishing the last trace of sleep.

  Afterward he put on jeans and a plaid shirt. If Adrienne were there and on a normal schedule, he’d brew that coffee and serve it the way he had yesterday. How silky and tousled she’d looked with her hair spread across the pillow. And when the sheet slid low, no red-blooded male could have missed the upper swell of her breasts.

  Realizing his body was hardening, Wade steered his thoughts in a safer direction. After breakfast, they had a couple chores to do. The first of those might prove interesting indeed.

  Downstairs, he left a note as to their plans. Despite a wish to stick around and say hello when Adrienne arrived, he figured she might appreciate some privacy.

  Reg wiggled happily beneath his seat belt as the black coupe glided to the restaurant. Feeding him sweets for breakfast didn’t fit Wade’s idea of good nutrition, but he believed in tempering a healthy regime with mercy.

  And what a treat it was to eat at the restaurant, even though they had to wait ten minutes for a table. The delicious smells and the jovial sound of dishes rattling and families chatting were better entertainment than any TV show.

  He barely glanced at the menu before ordering the Walnut Maple Surprise. Reggie went straight for the Triple Chocolate Dream.

  While they waited for their order, Wade explained that he’d left his father’s place. “Later today I’d like you to help me take a look at Harbor Suites.”

  “Okay.” Reggie, who’d been angling his spoon to study his own reflection, dropped it on the tablecloth. Wade half expected him to renew the invitation to stay at Adrienne’s, but instead he asked, “What did you and your dad fight about?”

  Kind of a heavy subject, but the kid deserved an answer. “Remember I told you Daryl is an alcoholic?”

  “Uh-huh.”

>   “He used to be a sheriff’s deputy,” Wade added. “That’s like a police officer. He had to quit because of his drinking.”

  The waitress appeared, setting down a glass of milk for Reggie and refilling Wade’s coffee cup. He waited until she was gone before continuing.

  “The other night, my father asked me to recommend him for a job with the detective agency where I work.” Wade gazed sadly into those young silvery eyes so much like the ones he saw in the mirror every day. “I had to tell him no. You have to be trustworthy and sober to be a detective.”

  “I bet that made him mad.” Reggie heaved a sigh too big for his little body. “Do you think it would help if I talked to him?”

  Wade nearly burst out laughing, but turned it into a cough. His son must have heard that phrase spoken more than once by his aunt and her friends. “I’m afraid he’s too far gone for that.”

  After a resigned nod, Reggie sipped his milk.

  Wade’s gaze swept the surrounding tables. Some of the diners were couples; many were families with children. Whether laughing or scowling, chatty or silent, none of them led charmed lives, he felt certain, yet he hoped few had had to absorb this kind of adult information at such an early age. Still, in a few years, Reggie might be offered alcohol by other kids. With luck, he’d remember what he’d learned about its consequences.

  Their orders arrived. Halfway through they switched plates and enjoyed their meals with renewed fervor.

  “Where are we going now?” Reggie asked when they were done.

  “Next stop is Phil’s Garage.” In his haste to pack, Wade had left some important items, including his camera, in a drawer at Daryl’s. He’d emailed his father, who’d tersely promised to bring them to work this morning. It was nearly eight, the time the garage opened. “I have to pick up a few things.”

  “Doesn’t your dad work there?”

  “That’s right.”

  Reggie’s forehead puckered. “I get to meet him?”

  “We’ll see what mood he’s in.” Or if he shows up at all.