My Child, Our Child (Silhouette Special Edition)

by Hagan, Patricia

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Books by Patricia Hagan

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  Sam felt as if he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders,

  trying to keep the farm going and take care of his son.

  He did not need a woman moving in next door and complicating things.

  Especially a woman who had a way of igniting feelings and emotions he had sworn never to feel for any woman, ever again.

  He would just have to stop thinking about how it made him feel all warm inside when Jackie Lundigan smiled at him, or how her bright, friendly eyes were as green as new spring grass. And to stop thinking how good it would feel to touch her, hold her and—

  Sam gave his head a vicious shake.

  It would be hard, but she would not be around much longer.

  At least, that was how he hoped it would be, because he did not want to think of the consequences if she stayed....

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to Special Edition...where each month we offer six wonderfully emotional romances about people just like you—striving to find the perfect balance between life, career, family and, of course, love....

  To start off, Susan Mallery shines with her thirtieth Silhouette novel, Surprise Delivery. In this not-to-be-missed THAT’S MY BABY’ title, a very pregnant heroine is stuck in an elevator with a charming stranger—and is about to give birth!

  Love proves to be the greatest adventure of all in Hunter’s Pride by Lindsay McKenna In the continuation of her enthralling MORGAN’S MERCENARIES. THE HUNTERS series, fiercely proud Devlin Hunter is teamed up with a feisty beauty who challenges him at every turn And don’t miss the wonderful romance between a hamed single dad and a spirited virgin m The Home Love Built by Christine Flynn.

  Next, a compassionate paralegal reunites a brooding cop with his twin sons in The Fatherhood Factor—book three in Diana Whitney’s heartwarming FOR THE CHILDREN series. Then a lovely newcomer befriends her neighbor’s little boy and breaks through to the lad’s guarded dad in My Child, Our Child by New York Times bestselling author Patricia Hagan.

  Finally this month, Tracy Sinclair pens The Bachelor King, a regally romantic tale about a powerful king who mames a “pregnant” American beauty, only to receive the royal shock of his life!

  I hope you enjoy these six unforgettable romances created by women like you, for women like you!

  Sincerely,

  Karen Taylor Richman

  Senior Editor

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave, P.O. Box i, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: PO. Box 609, Fort Ene, Ont. L2A 5X3

  PATRICIA HAGAN

  MY CHILD, OUR CHILD

  To James W. Ralph, M.D. Col, MC, MFS-Ret.,

  with thanks and appreciation for his assistance in

  providing the medical facts for this story.

  However, I take responsibility for poetic license.

  Books by Patricia Hagan

  Silhouette Special Edition

  Bride for Hire #1127

  My Child, Our Child #1277

  Yours Truly

  Boy Re-Meets Girl

  Groom on the Run

  Harlequin Historicals

  The Daring #84

  The Desire #143

  PATRICIA HAGAN

  New York Times bestselling author Patricia Hagan had written and published over 2,500 short stories before selling her first book in 1971. With a background in English and journalism from the University of Alabama, Pat has won awards for radio, television, newspaper and magazine writing. Her hobbies include reading, painting and cooking. The author and her Norwegian husband, Erik, divide their time between their Florida retreat in Boca Raton and their home in Bergen, Norway.

  Chapter One

  The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee greeted Jackie Lundigan as she entered the back door of Dove Haven Rest Home. The luscious smell of blueberry pancakes told her it was Wednesday, because, as dietician, she could tell the day of the week by whatever odor wafted from the kitchen.

  She loved everything about her job. While some people might find working in a nursing home depressing, she enjoyed being around elderly people and found it rewarding to try to bring them happiness in their twilight years.

  It was also gratifying to know, she thought with pride, how there would be few leftovers on this day’s menu or any other. When she had taken over as dietician, she had implemented a program whereby the residents could have a say in their diet. Regular meetings with them helped her plan the bill of fare, ensuring everyone would have their favorite foods. Accordingly, she had managed to balance out everything nutritionally, and the culinary offerings at Dove Haven were highly praised, not only by residents but their family members, as well.

  Her office was opposite the kitchen, but she went first to the staff break room. It was a bright, cheery place, with comfortable sofas and chairs, long tables for meals or snacks, a refrigerator to store personal food, and vending machines for soft drinks and the junk food even she sometimes craved.

  Long, wide windows offered a view to the park area in the rear where, weather permitting, those residents who were able to be up and about could enjoy the fresh air.

  On the wall next to the door there were several rows of pigeonhole boxes where staff received mail and memos. Hers was full, as usual, because every food vendor in the county was constantly trying to woo Dove Haven’s business through her.

  Sipping her coffee, she leafed through the envelopes and flyers, trashing most. She had her favorite vendors, so there was no need to change...no need to waste her time reading about others.

  Then she saw the blue phone memo with the notation that Dottie Benjamin had called. She found that odd, because, after Jackie’s breakup, Dottie and Chuck had abandoned her like most of the couples she and Kevin had hung out with during their marriage. But that had not come as a surprise since the guys were all Kevin’s buddies.

  Folding the memo, she slipped it into the pocket of her white smock. Maybe Dottie had decided to keep in touch, after all. But according to what the receptionist had entered in the time box, the call came early—right at 7:00 a.m.—and Jackie found that even more bizarre.

  She also wondered about it being marked “urgent,” but not enough to make her return the call anytime soon. After all, she had a full day’s work ahead and did not want to start it off by being reminded of Kevin in any way. Besides, everything had been taken care of. She had signed the separation agreement prepared by his lawyer. Under North Carolina law, a divorce would be granted when they had been apart for at least a year. The healing process had begun, and she did not want to reopen the wounds.

  She had tried to push it out of her mind—how she had worked all those years to put him through medical school. Sure, he’d had it tough with hard studies and long hours as an intern, but life had been no bed of roses for her, either.

  They had married after graduating from high school. Kevin’s father had mortgaged his house to pay hi
s tuition but that was the only help they’d had. Her parents were dead, and she had gone to work as a kitchen helper at Dove Haven to pay for the rent and groceries. Eventually, because she worked her buns off, she had managed to get certification as a dietician by going to night school.

  She could not pinpoint exactly when the trouble started...when they began to drift apart. Things weren’t too bad during college and medical school, but once he began his residency, he made her feel out of place in his world. At parties he would tell her to watch what she said, lest she embarrass him. People, especially doctors, he chided, didn’t want to hear her warm and fuzzy stories about old people. He was also critical of her hair, her clothes, seeming to constantly look for—and find—fault.

  At first, she had tried, really tried, to please him and live up to the way he felt a future surgeon’s wife should behave. But pretense had never been her style. She took a good, hard look at herself, liked what she saw and refused to be something she wasn’t. She was not, by God, ashamed to like old people or to volunteer to help out at the local animal shelter when time permitted—all of which led to more belittlement from Kevin.

  Still, she felt like she had done everything she could to try and hold the marriage together, but nothing seemed to work. Eventually he had begun to sleep on the sofa in the living room of their tiny one-bedroom apartment. At first he said it was because he came in at all hours from his crazy shifts, but then he started staying out all night when she knew he wasn’t working or studying, and she feared the end might be near.

  And it came when he finished his residency.

  Without fanfare or discussion, he declared that he wanted a divorce and promptly moved out.

  At first, she had been stunned... devastated...and, yes, broken-hearted. For in the back of her mind, she had dared to think that once the grueling demands of internship and residency were behind him, they could, by some miracle, find a way to recapture the love that had led them to marriage in the first place.

  But in the three weeks since he had moved out, she was surprised to realize that nothing about her existence had really changed. He had never been around, anyway, and their sex life had dwindled to the point she could not even remember the last time they had made love.

  Perhaps more surprising than Kevin wanting a divorce was how he agreed to take over all their debts—huge credit card bills he had amassed, which she was also responsible for paying.

  When she asked, wide-eyed with wonder, how he was able to be so benevolent, he had blithely explained he had accepted an offer to join the practice of a prominent surgeon in Winston-Salem. A generous advance on his earnings was part of the deal, so he wanted a clean break. He was starting a new life, he happily boasted, and did not intend to take any baggage from his old one along.

  Well, she wanted a new life, too, she thought with bitterness rising. For too long everything had revolved around Kevin—his wants and needs. Now she would finally have time for hers. She wanted to paint, dabble in pottery, maybe write poetry—all the things Kevin had scorned as a waste of her time. But though she now had the time, and would like nothing better than to start over somewhere else, it was financially impossible. She had no savings, and she still had her car to pay for—even though it was about as feeble as some of the nursing home residents. But maybe one day...

  “So this is why you aren’t answering your phone.” Maxine Dwyer, the receptionist, breezed into the room and headed for the coffeepot. “I’ve buzzed you a couple of times. That Benjamin woman called again. She sounds real excited. Says she’s got to talk to you.”

  “I’ll go call her now. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” Maxine snatched up a bagel on her way out.

  Jackie began gathering up the rest of the mail she’d not yet been through, but before she could finish, Betsy Reidy stuck her head in the door, waving a sheet of paper. “Here’s the tray list. Want me to leave it on your desk? I’ve got to run.”

  Jackie frowned. “Run where?” She had hired Betsy as an aide in the kitchen only a week ago, but she did not seem to be working out. She was always late and twice had claimed emergencies to leave the job for a few hours.

  “Car trouble. I’ve got to go to the factory where my husband works and get some money from him to pay the bill before the garage will fix it. He got an advance on his salary, and—”

  Jackie held out her hand to take the paper. “Just do it, Betsy. And please try to get back as soon as you can. Lunch is only a few hours away, remember? And they need you in the kitchen.” She did not want to seem unsympathetic but felt most of Betsy’s problems were exaggerated. She also suspected she seized every opportunity to get out of having to work during the busiest times.

  “Oh, I will, I will.” Betsy walked over to the table as though she had all the time m the world and began wrapping bagels in paper napkins. “I guess it’s okay for me to take a couple of these to Buddy. They always go stale, anyway, ’cause nobody around here wants them.”

  Jackie was not listening, busy scanning the check-off sheet for breakfast. The amount a patient ate and drank at each meal was noted and kept in a log. It was important, not only to know how much nutrition they were getting but to judge any change in appetite that could signal problems.

  Betsy was almost out the door when one special name leaped out at Jackie. “Wait a minute. How come Miss Pratt didn’t touch her tray?”

  “Miss Pratt?” Betsy seemed not to recognize the name. “I don’t know. What’s marked?”

  “Zero consumed. That’s strange. Miss Pratt always has a huge appetite.”

  Betsy shrugged. “You’ll have to ask somebody else. I don’t know anything about it.”

  “Well, I’ll go check on her right now.” Jackie hurriedly gathered her things.

  Libby Pratt was not only one of her favorite people, she was a special friend. They had grown quite close in the years since Libby had come to Dove Haven. In fact, she had lent a compassionate ear when Jackie felt the need to talk to someone about her failing marriage.

  She had also felt deeply sorry for the cruel blow life had dealt Libby. Never having married, she had dedicated herself to her career as a history teacher. It had been her dream upon retirement to travel the world, visiting the places she had spent so many years teaching others about. With no family, she was all alone in the world, but she was a spunky soul and had no trepidation over traveling by herself. But before her adventures could begin, a traffic accident had left her crippled, forcing her into a nursing home and ending her dreams.

  Taking a bagel to munch on later, Jackie left the break room. Seeing one of the other kitchen workers coming out of the rest room, she asked, “Harriet, what’s the story with Miss Pratt?” Protocol required that residents not be referred to by a first name, regardless of the relationship with an employee. “She’s marked zero percent eaten. Is she still in the dining room?”

  “She didn’t show at all. The tray just sat there.”

  Alarm and concern triggered a sharp retort. “Well, didn’t anyone find out why? When a patient doesn’t show, somebody is supposed to find out the reason. Who’s the CNA on that wing this week?”

  Harriet fired back, “How should I know? I work in the kitchen, remember?”

  She walked away, rounded a corner and disappeared.

  Hurrying on into her office, Jackie dropped the mail on her desk. A few pieces fell to the floor, but she stepped over them in her haste to go and check on Libby. Everything else could wait till she found out what was going on.

  The phone rang.

  She kept on going.

  The building was shaped like a cross, four wings branching out to separate residents by need. Libby was in the domiciliary wing, which meant that while she had special needs, she was not infirm enough to be considered a nursing patient. With a walker, she was able to get around slowly on her own. She did not like the confines of her room and it was not an unusual sight to see her out and about. She attended almost every activity scheduled and mad
e it a point to visit the bedridden to offer company and cheer.

  Given all that, Jackie feared there had to be something seriously wrong for Libby not to have shown up for breakfast.

  No one was around the nurses’ station, situated in the middle of the cross. But as she turned towards Libby’s wing, one of the CNAs saw her and called, “Maxine is looking for you. She just called here to ask if we’d seen you. She says some woman is having kittens trying to catch up with you.”

  Jackie did not slow her pace as she spoke over her shoulder, “I don’t have time right now. If she calls again, please tell her—”

  The phone on the counter rang.

  “That’s gonna be her again,” the CNA said with a frown. “Nurse Vincent is busy with a patient who’s really bad off, and I’m supposed to be answering the phone, and I’m going to get way behind on my work if I have to keep taking calls from the receptionist looking for you.”

  Jackie groaned and turned back. Too many people were being inconvenienced, so there was nothing to do but take the call.

  Lifting the receiver, she told Maxine to put it through, and a second later she heard Dottie’s excited voice, “Oh, thank God, Jackie. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to reach you before you hear it from somebody else.”

  Jackie tensed. “Hear what?”

  “It’s Kevin.”

  She felt a twinge of apprehension. “What’s wrong? Is he hurt?”