Bachelor Father

by Jean C. Gordon

  “Boo.” He stomped his little shoeless foot. “Kisses.”

  Brett quirked an eyebrow.

  Molly felt like stomping her foot, too. Brett thought it all a big game. Well, two could play. Imitating Jake, Molly hurled herself into Brett’s open arms, hoping to throw his intentions off balance. She caught him off balance all right. He stepped back, knocking the chair over. It hit the floor with a loud thud.

  “Go boom!” Jake squealed with delight and clapped.

  Molly struggled to maintain her balance. What had she been thinking? Visions of Brett falling and cracking his head open on tile floor flashed before her. She could see the news headline now. Man bleeds to death on kitchen floor when wife passes out at sight of blood.

  She flung her arms around Brett’s waist as he took another step back and reached back to brace himself on the wall.

  “Oomph.” His elbows hit the wall and he slid to the floor, taking Molly with him.

  Jake danced around them. “Unca, go boom. Boo go boom. We all fall down.” He plopped himself on the floor next to them.

  Pulling her arms out from behind Brett, Molly scrambled to her knees between his sprawled legs and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Are you all right?”

  He leaned against the wall and rubbed one elbow, a smile returning to his face.

  “I’m fine.” His smile widened, making Molly wonder if he had hit his head and knocked himself silly. His elbows must be smarting, yet he sat there grinning at her.

  To avoid meeting his eyes, she began to dust herself off. As she brushed at her skirt, her sleeve button popped off and hit the floor with a ping. Molly watched it roll across the floor to Jake. He scooped it up and popped it in his mouth.

  “Jake, no,” they cried in unison.

  Jake froze at the strident tone of their voices, the button still in his mouth.

  “Give the button to me.” Brett rushed to Jake and held out his hand. Jake spit the button into Brett’s palm.

  “Good boy,” Brett said.

  Jake faced Molly. “Good boy,” he repeated.

  “Yes, you’re a good boy.” Molly bent down and kissed his cheek. His onyx eyes sparkled.

  “Unca, good boy?”

  Brett chuckled, waiting for her answer.

  “Well, yeah, Uncle Brett’s a pretty good boy.” She couldn’t resist the qualifier.

  “Unca, kisses,” Jake commanded.

  How had they gotten back to kisses? Darn Jake’s tenacity.

  Brett answered for Molly. “Sorry Bud, I think Molly’s had enough excitement for this evening.

  Excitement, indeed. But she’d accomplished what she wanted, gotten Brett to discourage the welcome-home kiss. So, why didn’t she feel triumphant?

  Molly closed the dishwasher door and turned the dial to wash. Brett always ran the dishwasher right before turning in to make sure they’d have enough hot water for baths and showers beforehand.

  “Unca?” Jake padded into the kitchen in his football jersey pajamas, for the third time since she’d put him to bed.

  She glanced at the clock. Quarter after eleven. “Sweetie, Uncle Brett will be home soon.”

  “Unca?” Jake sniffed.

  Molly wished she could do more to comfort him, to reassure him that Brett hadn’t disappeared from his life as had his Korean foster mother and Kate and David. Brett’s night out may have been as good for Jake as for Brett. Jake would have to get used to Brett being gone all day once spring came and Brett’s business picked up again.

  She picked Jake up. His cheeks were flushed with more than sleep and he felt warm. She’d better take his temperature. Jake snuggled his head into her shoulder and whimpered. Maybe she should call Brett. No, Jake had been sneezing and coughing a bit earlier. He had a cold. She’d check and give him something if his temperature was up.

  An hour later, Molly lay in her bed wide awake listening to the quiet punctuated by Jake’s even, if somewhat raspy breathing. She heard a car door slam and Brett’s whistling. His team must have won, or maybe, as she’d suggested, it had just been good for him to get out with adults. She smiled to herself, picturing him cheering his team, laughing with his friends, flirting with the ladies. Tina was probably there. She seemed to be a regular member of his crowd. A pang of envy struck Molly. He was her husband after all. She couldn’t stop feeling left out, which was silly since she’d been the one who’d all but made him go.

  Brett’s footsteps resounded heavily on the wood stairs. She listened to him walk down the hall to Jake’s room. The door opened. Molly waited long enough for Brett to have checked on Jake and listened for footsteps to return to her end of the hall. Surely, if Brett thought anything was wrong with Jake, he’d come and talk with her. Satisfied everyone was home and well, Molly rolled over, cocooned the covers around her, and fell asleep.

  Brett stepped into the hall and closed the door. Jake’s breathing had sounded a little loud, labored. Maybe he should go wake Molly and ask her if she thought anything was wrong. No, he headed to his room. Molly would have waited up to talk with him if she thought Jake was sick.

  Chapter Ten

  Molly caught sight of the deer bounding out of the woods and automatically slammed on her brakes. A sense of powerlessness seized her as she hit a patch of black ice and skidded to the right-hand side of the road, stopping inches from an enormous pine tree. She turned the car off.

  Foomp. The tree, with help from the blustery winds dropped a load of snow on her windshield. Molly leaned her head on the steering wheel, and breathed deeply to slow her racing heart. A deer would have made scrap metal out of her little car.

  Since she hadn’t quite mastered all the finer points of Northeast winter driving, she shouldn’t have let her attention wander. But she had a lot on her mind, particularly concern that Brett had never called after Jake’s doctor’s appointment, like he’d said he would. The little boy’s cold had worsened over the past couple of days, and his temperature had spiked this morning.

  She relaxed her grip on the steering wheel. Brett would have called if Jake were really sick, wouldn’t he? Maybe he had called. She’d left work a little early to stop by the condo. Her renters were on a two-week vacation and had asked her to keep an eye on the place and water the plants. Most of the plants were Molly’s anyway.

  With the weather forecast for tonight and tomorrow, maybe she should have stayed over. She had a standing offer from her tenants to do so anytime the weather was bad, and she might have if she weren’t so worried about Jake. The solitude of the condo had been kind of nice and had helped ground her in reality. Lately she’d been catching herself making long-term plans, as if she and Brett and Jake were a real family. Stopping by the condo reminded her where her home was.

  Molly lifted her head, switched her windshield wipers on and blinked at the fading afternoon sun glistening on the whiteness surrounding her. She started the car and carefully pulled back on the road, driving over-cautiously the rest of the way. As she turned into the driveway, she thought all she needed to make her day complete would be for Tina to be at the house. Tina seemed to be there an awful lot. For a successful attorney, Tina didn’t have a very busy workweek, or else she made a point to schedule hours of time to spend with Brett and Jake.

  Pushing the petty thoughts from her head, Molly stepped from the car and headed toward the house. As she opened the door, she almost collided with Tina and Amy. Molly moved out of the way and waved them by. Well, at least Tina was leaving.

  Tina didn’t move. “Molly, where have you been?” she demanded. “Brett phoned you at work more than two hours ago, and the receptionist said you’d left.”

  “Hello, to you, too, or rather good-bye.” Molly swung the door open wider. “You are leaving?” She could have bitten her tongue. Tina sure brought the worst out in her. Her cheeks colored as she watched Tina’s face for a reaction.

  Tina ignored the snipe. “You’ve got to get to the hospital, and you need to bring these.” Tina shoved a sheaf of pap
ers at Molly. “Jake’s medical records from Korea.”

  “What’s wrong?” Molly felt like someone had kicked her in the stomach.

  “The doctor wasn’t sure. It might be pneumonia. He sent Brett to the emergency room, where they admitted Jake to the children’s floor.”

  Molly gripped the door handle for support. Poor baby; poor Brett. She had to get to the hospital.

  Molly took the papers from Tina, and negotiated the way to her car carefully. With nightfall and the light, but steady snow showers, everything was icing up.

  “Molly.” Tina stood on the porch, Amy beside her, her little mitten hand clasped securely in her mother’s. “Drive safely, so you arrive all in one piece. Brett’s going to need you.”

  She nodded and waved to Tina and Amy. A warmth not attributable to the car heater filled the car as she realized Tina could have gone to the hospital with Brett and Jake, but Brett had wanted her. Tina’s words echoed, “Brett’s going to need you.”

  Molly quickly wiped the moisture from her eyes and concentrated on driving. She justified the intensity of her feelings by reminding her it was her job, her duty to see to Jake’s proper care and give Brett the support he needed. She’d do the same for any of her clients. Well, almost.

  By the time she reached the city again, the weather had grown much worse. Molly crept along the interstate, eyes open for the hospital off ramp. Finally, she spotted it. She signaled and tapped her brakes to warn the car following her that she was slowing down. Her car slid slightly, but she was able to keep it in control and exit the interstate. Ah, what she wouldn’t have given to be driving Brett’s four-wheel-drive Wrangler. He’d told her to take it today, but she’d figured he should keep it to get to Jake’s appointment.

  Fortunately, the hospital was in the first block off the exit. As she locked her car, Molly scanned the deserted visitor’s parking lot and shivered. At least she’d been able to park close to the building under the lights. Clutching her satchel, she plowed up the unshoveled walkway to the lobby door.

  Inside, a bored-looking woman staffed the information window. She frowned at Molly. “Visiting hours were over at eight-thirty,” the woman said before Molly could even open her mouth to ask about Jake.

  Molly checked the lobby clock. Eight-thirty-five. The drive home from work and back to Albany had taken her more than three hours. Assuming a no-nonsense tone, Molly said, “This is an emergency.” She pulled Jake’s medical papers from her satchel and placed them on the information window counter. “I’m supposed to deliver these medical records. A child’s life may depend on this information.”

  “The child’s name?” The woman looked at the papers on the counter in front of her.

  “Jake Cahill,” Molly answered.

  The woman eyed her suspiciously. “These papers here say “Shin, Keebok.”

  “That’s his Korean name. His American name is Jake . . . wait, not Cahill.” What was Brett’s sister’s married name? Peters? No, Peterson. “Jake Peterson. His uncle Brett Cahill brought him in.”

  Turning to a computer keyboard, the woman asked, “Peterson? Is that with one T or two?”

  “One. P-e-t-e-r-s-o-n.” Molly’s voice rose a note higher with exasperation as she spoke each letter.

  “Are you family?” the woman asked. “Only immediately family members are allowed on the children’s floor after visiting hours.”

  “I’m his adoption caseworker,” Molly answered with quiet authority, flipping her wallet open to her Thayer House identification card.

  The woman glanced at the card. “I guess it’s okay.” She typed a few keystrokes. “This’ll take a minute,” the woman said, drumming her long red nails on the desktop while lines scrolled by on the computer screen.

  The sound set Molly’s already frazzled nerves on edge. After what seemed like minutes, the screen stopped scrolling.

  “I don’t find any Jake Peterson.”

  “Then, try Jake Cahill. That’s C-a-h-i-l-l.”

  The computer screen resumed scrolling.

  “Here he is. Room 2235. That’s up the elevator and to the right.”

  “Thanks.” Molly picked up Jake’s medical records and crossed the lobby to the elevators. At the second floor nurses’ station, Molly introduced herself to the head nurse and gave her Jake’s medical records.

  “How is he?” Molly asked.

  “It’s a little touch and go,” the nurse said. “Pneumonia can be stubborn. His temperature is still up, which has the doctor concerned about meningitis. But he seems to be resting quietly now.”

  Meningitis. One of the Thayer house foster children had almost died of meningitis. Her foster parents had thought the child had a flu and put off taking her to the doctor. Molly’s throat tightened so she could hardly swallow. Had she and Brett missed something, waited too long? Get a grip, she admonished herself. “He’ll be all right, though?” she asked the nurse

  “We’ll know more after the resident makes night rounds,” nurse answered guardedly.

  “Can I go in?”

  “Sure,” the nurse said. “His uncle’s with him and could probably use a break. He hasn’t left the boy’s side since the emergency room transferred him up here.”

  Molly pushed open the door to Jake’s room and smiled. Both of her guys were resting quietly, Jake tucked into the hospital crib, his favorite blanket clutched to him; Brett sprawled in the chair beside the bed. Poor Brett. She’d heard him up with Jake off and on all of last night.

  Molly walked over to the crib. Jake looked so small and helpless with the mist tent surrounding him, an IV drip in his hand. And so still, a cardboard cutout of his usual rowdy self. She slipped her hand in the tent and caressed Jake’s ruddy cheek, wondering whether it was chapped from the weather or the fever. Maybe it was wishful thinking on her part, but he didn’t seem overly warm to her.

  Turning to the chair, she studied Brett. While his calm and easy breathing contrasted with Jake’s labored breaths, Brett’s expression was anything but calm. Even in his sleep, his brow was creased with worry. Molly wished she could reach down and smooth the creases away.

  Brett mumbled as he shifted in the chair, trying to get more comfortable. His elbow slipped from the arm of the chair and he jerked awake. He squinted trying to focus in the dim light and get his bearings. The hospital smell that permeated the room filled his nostrils.

  “Hi.” Molly’s concerned smile brightened the room.

  “You got my message. The receptionist had said you’d left.” He rushed on, “Did you bring the copies of Jake’s medical records? I told Tina to give then to you.”

  Not waiting for an answer, Brett pushed himself out of the low chair. “They can’t seem to get Jake’s temperature down. The doctor wanted to check his vaccination record and possible allergies to medicines.” Brett’s throat clogged and couldn’t finish. He walked over to the bed.

  “I gave the medical records to the nurse at the desk,” Molly answered.

  “Good.” He turned from Jake. “What time is it?”

  “About nine o’clock.”

  “That late? I must have dozed off. What took you so long to get here?” He’d left a message at her office about three. She should have realized the urgency, but maybe he was placing too much importance on his and Jake’s place in Molly’s life. Maybe, Jake was just another case to her. He looked from Molly to Jake and back again.

  “I didn’t get your message at work. I left early to stop by the condo, check on it, and water my plants. Remember, the Reynolds are on vacation.” Guilt flickered across her face. “When you didn’t call after Jake’s doctor’s appointment this morning, I thought everything must be all right,” she said defensively.

  He had said he’d call. She must have driven all the way home and back. Molly hated driving in the snow and her car didn’t handle that well in winter weather.

  “Why didn’t you stay at the condo and call? Tina said she’d wait at the house until supper time in case you called.”<
br />
  “I wanted to get home to Jake, to see how he was,” she said simply. “The nurse said he might have meningitis.” Her voice shook. “Has the doctor been in?

  “The pediatric resident was here about five and seemed concerned about Jake’s fever and dehydration. She had the nurse give him something different for the fever. I tried to get Jake to eat a little soup and drink the juice the aide brought in with his supper tray. But he kept shaking his head no and saying ‘Pooh.’”

  “He wanted his cup,” she said softly, feeling as helpless as Jake looked. “I could have brought it with me.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You didn’t know. Besides, Jake’s my responsibility, not yours.”

  Brett stepped from the bedside. Was that consolation or reproach that flickered in Molly’s eyes? Didn’t matter. He should have seen how sick Jake was and taken him to the doctor’s sooner.

  He collapsed in the chair and covered his face with his hands. “Molly, it was awful.” His thoughts turned to words before he could stop them.

  Molly moved beside him and timidly placed her hand on his shoulder. He dropped his hands. She slid her hand to the nape of his neck and massaged his tense muscles.

  He looked up. Her eyes brimmed with concern. A part of Brett hoped some of it was for him.

  “After you left this morning, I had to wake Jake up. I had to actually wake him up,” he repeated. “You know Jake’s always the first one up. I don’t think he’s let me sleep past six since the day he arrived.”

  “Um, hmmm.” Molly continued her ministrations.

  Brett leaned his head back and rubbed against her hand, the tension ebbing with each touch of her fingers. “Jake didn’t want to eat and didn’t want to play. All he wanted was for me to hold him. He was so warm and limp. I felt so useless. I couldn’t do anything for him.”

  “You did all you could.” she consoled him. “Much as parents would like to, they can’t protect their kids from everything.”

  Being referred to as a parent gave Brett a start. Brett thought of himself as Jake’s uncle, not a parent.