Bachelor Father

by Jean C. Gordon

  The possibilities of what he might be thinking, remembering, made Molly’s knees go weak. She placed the spoon on a spoon rest and turned the stove burner off. Someone had to get this situation back in perspective.

  She walked to the table and sat. “Brett, we need to talk.”

  He leaned against the counter beside the table, his arms crossed, forcing her to look up at him when she spoke.

  “About last night, it . . .” her voice trailed off.

  “It, what?” He pushed away from the counter and stood next to her, his hand resting on the table, effectively cornering her in the chair.

  “It,” she started again, wishing he’d sit down, rather than loom over her like a hovering bird of prey.

  She took a deep breath and stared him straight in the eye. “It was a mistake.”

  “A mistake,” he repeated, leaning closer. “A good mistake or a bad mistake?”

  His dark eyes glittered, with anger or something else? She couldn’t be sure.

  “Good or bad?” he prompted, leaning even closer, his gaze intent on her.

  Unconsciously she tilted her face to him, all the while her mind screaming don’t kiss me. If he kissed her, they’d be back where they were last night.

  His lips were inches from hers, his breath warm on her face. “Good or bad?”

  Good, very good, her heart told her. Was this lack of control hereditary? Some defective gene passed on from her mother? She had to get control.

  “Good,” she blurted to stop him. “Great.”

  Brett didn’t move, but a smile of masculine satisfaction spread across his face.

  Molly focused on the dimple in his right cheek, rather than his eyes. “But, it was just physical attraction.”

  Brett straightened, as if she splashed cold water in his face.

  “That’s all?” he said, with a hard look that made her cringe. “I didn’t have you pegged for that type. Look at all the fun we’ve missed.”

  “No!” She shook her head violently. “Not like that,” she said brokenly.

  “Then like what?”

  Molly fingered her cross for strength before lifting her eyes to his. “You said you needed me. I wanted to help you.”

  His expression remained hard. “So, last night’s kiss was just a show of mercy—”

  “Don’t, don’t say it. Don’t make it sound so mean. I care for you.” Heaven only knew how much. More than she cared to admit, even to herself—especially to herself. “You were hurting. I could help.”

  Brett’s finger brushed her cheek softly. “It wasn’t only physical attraction,” he said, his words a statement not a question.

  She nodded against his finger. That much she could admit. He lifted her chin, so she had to look him in the eye. His expression had turned speculative, as if he were probing inside her head, her heart, trying to read her deepest thoughts.

  She tried to turn away. His eyes gleamed. He knew. She must be that transparent. He knew how much she cared.

  “Brett.” She finally found her voice. “Please sit.”

  Reluctantly, he pulled a chair next to hers.

  She took his hands. “We’re good friends. I think I can say that.” She looked to him for agreement.

  He massaged her knuckles with his thumb. “I’ll buy that.” He turned her hand over and started drawing circles on her palm with his fingertip.

  She tried to focus on what she had to say, but it was no use. Her thoughts kept returning to the sensations emanating from her hand, moving up her arm, quickening her heartbeat. She willed herself to pull her had away. Friends, she told herself. Nothing more.

  Brett raised an eyebrow in question.

  “Sometimes, sometimes,” she stuttered, looking at her hand as if she’d never seen it before. “Sometimes, friends get carried away, caught up in the moment.”

  “And that’s what you think happened last night? We got caught up in the moment?”

  His voice sounded so totally void of inflection. She lifted her eyes and studied him through the veil of her lashes. The fluorescent lighting lent a granite quality to his face. But, other than that, his expression was as neutral as his voice.

  She nodded, hoping to break his intent stare. Her explanation had sounded so logical earlier.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Molly started at the vehemence of his words.

  He took her hands in his. “Last night was more than a chance encounter.”

  Her heart skipped a beat at the possibility that their attraction might have been more to Brett than a momentary reaction to the stress of the day.

  “Admit it,” he ordered. “You had more on your mind than ‘helping me.’ ”

  “I, well.” He must think she was trying to trap him into a more permanent arrangement. She wasn’t. She wouldn’t. She’d never. “No,” she blurted before she could stop herself. “I don’t want to stay married to you.”

  Brett lifted her hands from the table and held them firmly, preventing her from pulling away again. “That bad, huh? And here I thought we were starting to work together really well.” A corner of his mouth quirked up in an almost smile.

  Molly felt her face flush. She had to stop this torture or she’d lose her composure all together and admit to falling in love with him. “What I meant is that I don’t have any secret designs for prolonging our relationship beyond its mutual usefulness.”

  “Usefulness?” He started rubbing her knuckles with his thumb again.

  “Yeah, you know, beyond your approval on Jake’s adoption and my closing on the condo.”

  “But aren’t we good friends?” Brett emphasized the word good. “Wouldn’t good friends keep in contact?”

  “Sure,” she admitted. But not the kind of contact she had in mind. She needed to put an end to his leading questions before her twinge of a headache turned into a full-force head-slammer and she did something stupid like hurl herself into his arms for comfort. He couldn’t have ideas for continuing their relationship. He wanted a once-in-a-lifetime love, like his grandparents’, before he’d consider a real marriage. He’d said so.

  “What I mean is that I don’t want to drag this marriage out any longer than you do.” There, that put the ball back in his court. She searched his eyes for a reaction. When they darkened, a glimmer of hope sparked in Molly’s heart. Could he be feeling the same about her?

  “I get you.” Brett continued the caress her fingers. “You don’t want to be married to me anymore than I want to be married to you. Fair enough.”

  Her hopes plummeted. So much for the possibility of her being the love of his life.

  He released her hands and rose from his seat. Smiling down at her, he said, “I’m starved. You want to have some chili now?” Brett went over and got two bowls from the cupboard.

  Typical man, putting his stomach first. To salvage her ravaged emotions, she tried to build a wall of anger against him. But, what was the use? She couldn’t force him to care more for her, and they did have to live together for the time being.

  “No,” she said with resignation. “I think I’ll go upstairs and rest for a while. I feel a killer headache coming on.”

  “You want some aspirin? I have a bottle in the cupboard somewhere.” His voice was laced with genuine concern.

  “I have extra-strength tablets upstairs. I’ll be fine.”

  “You aren’t coming down with something, like Jake,” Brett demanded as if forceful words could stop whatever was causing her head to hurt.

  “Brett,” she said irritably. “If I sleep for a while, I’ll be fine.”

  Much to her surprise, he walked over and kissed the top of her head. His hand squeezed her shoulder.

  “Go, on,” he directed before returning to his dinner preparations.

  Brett sat and stared at the steam rising from his chili. She didn’t want to be married to him any more than he wanted to be married to her. Interesting, since he was starting to think marriage wasn’t a bad deal at all.


  Chapter Twelve

  Molly hummed to herself as she studied the file and waited for her clients to arrive. This was the part of her job she liked best. The Shermans’ adoption application had been approved, and she had a referral from Korean Child Welfare all ready for them to consider.

  The child’s photo was adorable. Her Korean foster mother had the five-month-old girl all dressed up in a frilly pink dress with a big bow in her dark hair, and the baby smiled a wide toothless grin. Why the little girl was nearly as cute as Jake.

  Footsteps in the hall drew her attention to the door. The Shermans must be here. Molly checked her watch. Right on time. A thirty-ish couple entered the office.

  “Michelle, Tom,” she welcomed them warmly. “Please make yourself comfortable.” Molly motioned to the chairs positioned in front of her desk. “Are you excited? I have your referral right here.” She picked up the photo to show them.

  When the Shermans didn’t return Molly’s enthusiasm, she let the photo drop to the desk and looked from Tom to Michelle. Michelle sat silently, twisting the handle of the purse she held in her lap. Tom finally cleared his throat and took his wife’s hand.

  “We’re real excited. It’s just we . . . ah, Michelle.” He looked at his wife.

  Michelle took over. “I found out this week that I’m pregnant.”

  “Congratulations,” Molly said. From the case study, she knew the Shermans had been trying to conceive for several years. “I’ll bet you were surprised.”

  Tom’s face positively beamed as if he accomplished a great feat. She’d seen the same male expression of triumph on Brett’s face when he’d forced her to admit their kiss the other night had meant something.

  Molly waited for Tom or Michelle to speak. A moment passed. The spark in Tom eyes flickered and the glow faded. He exchanged a look of uneasiness with Michelle.

  “Is something wrong?” Molly asked. She wondered if they might want to withdraw their adoption application. To Molly, at least, the thought of having two babies under the age of two was downright scary. “If you’d like to put your adoption on hold, I can cancel the referral,” she offered.

  “No,” they said in unison.

  Michelle twisted her purse handle so tightly, Molly half expected it to break. “Actually,” Michelle said nervously, “we would like you to cancel the referral you’ve made, but we don’t want to put the adoption on hold.” She hesitated and twisted her purse handle more.

  Molly smiled what she hoped was a sympathetic smile and urged Michelle to continue. “You don’t want to postpone the adoption. What do you want to do?”

  Michelle’s voice became a little stronger. “Since everything has already been approved, we were wondering if we could ask for an older child, a two- or three-year-old.” She looked expectantly at Molly.

  “Yeah,” Tom added, “if that wouldn’t mess everything up.”

  Molly hadn’t thought of that possibility. Although the Shermans had requested an infant on their original application, they qualified to take an older child if that’s what they wanted. Unfortunately, Korean Child Welfare didn’t have many older children available.

  “There’s no reason you couldn’t choose an older child,” Molly said. “But you realize that Korean Child Welfare specializes in placing infants. Many of their toddlers and older children have health concerns or conditions that might require special care.”

  The couple exchanged another uneasy look.

  “We’ve received some of your flyers announcing the availability of the special needs children,” Michelle said. “But we hadn’t realized all of the older children had medical problems.”

  “Oh, no. I don’t want to mislead you. They don’t all have chronic health problems,” Molly assured them.

  Michelle and Tom’s faces brightened, and they both looked at Molly intently.

  She wanted to give them the facts objectively so she wouldn’t color the couple’s decision. “Some of the children had health conditions as infants that prevented them from being adopted then, but the conditions have since been treated or corrected by surgery.”

  Molly watched Tom squeeze Michelle’s hand and give her a hopeful, encouraging look. Fleetingly, she wondered what it would be like to have a family with Brett, to share the joy of watching Jake grow and adding to their family.

  She swallowed the lump that had been forming in her throat and continued, “Other children have been kept by their birth mothers for a year or two before being given up for adoption. As you know from our introductory meeting and literature, single mothers in Korea are up against a much greater social stigma than single mothers here. Some of the birth mothers think they can cope with it and find they can’t. Typically these children have more difficulty adjusting to their new families.”

  The Shermans nodded their understanding.

  “Right now, we don’t have many older children on our available list,” Molly cautioned. Her stomach knotted. Other than Jake, that was. “Would you like some time to think about the possibility of adopting one of the older children? I can set up an appointment to meet again next week.”

  Michelle whispered something to Tom and he nodded.

  Molly felt a conflicting mixture of hope and guilt at the possibility that she’d forestalled the Shermans into waiting a while before deciding to take an older child. They needn’t put their decision off long, just long enough for Brett’s approval to come through.

  “I hope I didn’t discourage you,” she said. We’ve been very successful with the older children we’ve placed so far.”

  “Not at all,” Michelle said. “While we’re here, we’d like to look at the listings for the older children you have available. That is if we can.”

  Molly panicked. What if the Shermans requested Jake? Her thumping heart made it hard to breath. She couldn’t bear the thought of giving Jake to anyone. Maybe the Shermans wouldn’t even ask about him. They had specified a preference for a girl. Molly weighed telling them that she’d need a few days to pull the older children listings and asking them to come back. But she couldn’t. It would be unethical. She had the current Waiting Children Book right in her desk drawer.

  Pasting on a smile she hoped didn’t look as strained as it felt, she said, “You can look in the Waiting Children Book. If you don’t see a child you think is right for you, I’ll notify the Korean agency that we have a family looking for an older child and they’ll send us information on any other older children they have.” Molly passed the book to Tom and Michelle.

  “Thanks.” The couple began pouring over the pictures in the book.

  Molly picked up some letters she had on her desk. “I’m going to run downstairs for a minute.” Her absence would give the Shermans some privacy to discuss the children. If Charles were downstairs, she could check if Brett’s adoption approval had, by any chance, come in today’s packet from Korea. Unless it had, Jake was as available as any of the other children in the book.

  “Molly,” Tom’s call stopped her before she’d gotten to the door. “What about this little guy?” he asked excitedly.

  Little guy. Dread rolled through her, dark as an impending thunder cloud. She forced her feet to walk back across the room and, bracing her hands on the back of Tom and Michelle’s chairs, looked over their shoulders at the open book. For a moment, she truly thought she’d be sick. Jake’s happy baby face smiled up at her from the pages.

  “Let me check,” she said, returning to her seat at the desk. “Charles Brown may have already referred him to another family.” Molly shut out the look of disappointment that passed between the Shermans. Nothing they felt could come close to the grief Brett would suffer if he lost Jake. With shaking hands, she turned her computer on and prayed fervently that when she typed in Jake’s identification number, his file would come up with a big red “REFERED” at the top.

  “Network Error. Invalid Drive.” Molly let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Yes! Her prayers had been answered—for the time being
. The computer network was down. No one could access the referral files.

  She apologized to the Shermans and she told them she would call them as soon as she found out Jake’s status. They thanked her and left.

  Molly leaned back in her chair and put her hands over her eyes. What a close call. She felt as limp as a wet dishrag.

  “Ahem.”

  She jerked upright. “Brett!” Her breath caught at the sight of him lounging against the doorframe in his usual flannel shirt and fitted jeans, a hint of a smile on his face. What his well-muscled build did to plain old workclothes ought to be against the law. How long had he been standing there watching her?

  “What are you doing here?” she blurted, hastily closing the Waiting Children Book that still lay open on her desk where the Shermans had left it. Guilt overwhelmed her. She hadn’t told Brett about listing Jake in the book.

  Brett tossed his gloves on the book and eased his tall frame into the chair. “Guy Conrad from Conrad Engineering called this morning. They have overflow surveying work and he wanted to know if I was interested. It’s a job I can do over the weekend. But it’s up north. I’ll have to go on Friday afternoon and stay until Sunday. Weekend after next.”

  Molly’s guarded expression made him stop. Maybe he was assuming too much, that she would want to watch Jake for the weekend. Just because he’d like her life to center around him and Jake didn’t mean it did. She’d been avoiding him since their talk the other evening, going to her room “to read” as soon as they’d tucked Jake in bed. It struck him that she might have made plans to go away for the weekend to escape having to be with him. Desolation stabbed his heart in a hundred points like pins being pushed into a pincushion.

  He flexed his fingers into fists and released them to relieve the sensation. “Hey, if you don’t want to watch Jake, I’ll see if Tina can. I told Guy I’d let him know tomorrow.”

  “I do. It’s fine,” Molly said quickly, looking down at her desk calendar in an obvious attempt to avoid meeting his gaze. “The only problem is, I have that conference in New York Thursday and Friday of next week. I won’t be back until Friday evening.”