So she’d stayed and somehow had taken care of him and Abby, too.
But her experiences, first with her father and then with Eric, had made her self-reliant. She didn’t depend on anyone, didn’t put her trust in any man. She’d been wrong about Eric’s character and the man he’d been. She’d even deluded herself into misjudging his commitment and recommitment. So she didn’t trust her instincts where men were concerned, and certainly not with Chase Remmington when the very fabric of her life was at stake.
As the siren on the ambulance kept blaring, the vehicle pulled up at the doors to the hospital. She couldn’t begin to fathom where the next few days would lead.
At the emergency room, Chase and Jillian kept up with the gurney as Marianne was wheeled inside. A tall, lean, sandy-haired doctor with wire-rimmed glasses and an unsmiling expression was standing in the doorway to one of the examining rooms.
“Doctor Beckwith can be brusque,” Chase told Jillian, “but he’s the best.”
“Wait here,” Beckwith said tersely to the two of them. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Won’t she be scared?” Jillian asked as Beckwith swept inside the room.
“She knows him. He’s a lot gentler with kids than he is with adults.”
“Does he know…” She hesitated. “Our situation?”
“Yes. I had to give his office guardianship papers and I explained what was going on before I left to find you.”
Wrapping her arms around herself, Jillian couldn’t prevent tears from coming to her eyes. “If anything happens to Marianne…It must have been so hard for you for the past few years, watching her, hoping the hole would heal. And when you found out it hadn’t—” Her voice broke.
“You understand,” Chase said as if he were surprised by that.
Although she didn’t want to feel anything for Chase, there was a bond forming between them. They’d both been single parents. They’d both faced hardships, although he didn’t know what hers had been, and she wasn’t altogether sure about his. Moments like this when they were standing close, feeling the same worry and connection, her world seemed to spin even faster and she could hardly catch her breath.
The doctor came out the door and left it open so Chase was in clear sight of Marianne. “We’re taking her to surgery. I’m going to take care of this now. I explained the repair to you last week. We’ll be in surgery about three hours. She’ll be in recovery for another two. After that, the first twelve hours should tell the tale. The nurse will bring you the papers you need to sign.”
The surgeon would have strode off, but Jillian stepped into his path. “Can we see her before you prep her for surgery?”
The doctor shifted his gaze from Jillian to Chase. “We have to get this moving. I don’t want to take any time—”
“A minute,” Jillian demanded. “I just need to see her for a minute. I might be her mother. I have no intention of letting her go to surgery without kissing her and giving her my love.”
The doctor’s severe expression seemed to soften a bit. “Take two minutes, but then you’ll have to move out of everyone’s way. Chase, I’ll meet you in the lounge upstairs after the surgery.”
And then he was off and Jillian rushed into the hospital room. Going to Marianne, she saw the little girl’s eyelids were already drooping. They must have given her a sedative.
Taking her little hand, Jillian squeezed it, leaned close and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you, honey. When you wake up, your dad and I’ll be waiting for you.”
Chase was at Jillian’s shoulder then and he was leaning close to Marianne, too. “After this is all over, you’ll be able to run and play with Buff again. See you soon, baby.”
After Chase kissed Marianne, his hand was on the small of Jillian’s back as he guided her out of the room.
Once in the hall, she looked at him, saw the moisture in his eyes and felt her lip begin to quiver. Then Chase’s arms were around her and she was leaning her head against his chest, hearing the beating of his heart. He didn’t say anything and neither did she.
After a few minutes when she felt more composed, she lifted her head. As he gazed down at her, there was a deep fiery light in his eyes. It scared her and excited her, too. However, in a second he’d banked it and, relieved, she felt him lean away.
Embarrassed, she left the circle of his arms and murmured, “Can we wait here until they wheel her to the operating room?”
“I don’t know if we can, but we’re going to.”
She could tell he didn’t want to be any farther away from Marianne than she did. Yet, the comforting and intimate moment they’d just shared had left a lingering awkwardness between them. Maybe it would pass while they waited. Maybe they’d find that connection again. Still, Jillian almost dreaded that connection to Chase Remmington.
It was too dangerous to even consider.
Chase carried coffee and sandwiches on his way back to the waiting room outside of the cardiac surgery suite. He’d called his mother to tell her Marianne was going into surgery, and then Jillian had talked to Abby for a while. He’d spoken to Abby, too, wanting her to get used to him, get used to his presence in her life. Afterward, Jillian had made a call to her partner in Florida, and he suspected Kara Johnson was more friend than business associate. To give Jillian some privacy, he’d decided to get them something to eat. Not that Jillian would eat. He’d already discovered that when she was emotionally in turmoil, she didn’t put food into her mouth.
Passing a nurse in the hall, he thought about Jillian’s demand to see Marianne before surgery. She had a fire in her that intrigued him…intrigued him too damn much. Because of that, he thought about Fran and what kind of mother she would have been. He realized he couldn’t quite imagine it. He realized that whenever he was with Jillian, he didn’t think about Fran.
That realization unsettled him.
When he reached the lounge, Jillian wasn’t there and he was almost grateful. He handled this kind of situation best solo. Fran used to say when he had a problem to solve or a feeling he didn’t want to face, he closed himself in his cave like a bear until he came to terms with whatever it was. His den had been his cave. Now the winery was pretty much his cave, except when his uncle Stan was around. Stan’s attitude had been terrifically defensive since Chase had returned to Willow Creek. His father’s brother had always helped out at the winery as a sideline and a break from the business of selling insurance. When he’d retired a few years ago, according to Chase’s mother, he’d helped out at the winery more and more.
Chase hadn’t been close to his uncle since he’d found out the truth about his parents when he was eighteen. Then, everything had fallen apart.
Chase set the box with coffee and sandwiches on the table in front of the sofa. Picking up one of the polystyrene cups, he carried it to the window and gazed out over the grounds.
Time slipped backward.
He’d always respected his father.
Preston Remmington had seen the possibilities of wine-making in the Susquehanna Valley before it became an up-and-coming area for the industry. Chase had always been fascinated by the wine-making process and had decided early to earn a degree in biochemistry, intending that Willow Creek Estates wine would eventually earn a stellar reputation. While he was growing up, he’d always sensed a distance between his parents, though he’d never known why it was there. Then he’d discovered exactly why.
He’d needed his birth certificate to get a passport for a trip to Europe. When he found it in the attic, he couldn’t believe his eyes. His mother’s name was not on that birth certificate. Doreen Edwards’s name was. He’d confronted his parents and learned that his father had had an affair nineteen years before. Eleanor had been a friend of his dad’s and had always loved him. Apparently Doreen had been beautiful but had aspired to become a famous singer, and she’d wanted to have an abortion. After his father convinced her to have their baby and give it to him, Eleanor had agreed to bring the child up as he
rs.
Chase’s world had fallen apart that day. He hadn’t even known who he really was anymore, and the first thing he had done was search for Doreen Edwards. He’d found her singing in a resort in Atlantic City. They’d soon understood they had no common ground or bonds and after that meeting, they’d never seen each other again.
Chase knew he’d become an angry young man, unforgiving of what his parents had done, mostly because of the lie they’d told him and fostered. After he’d earned his doctorate, he’d decided to do research in his field instead of returning to Willow Creek. When his work became acclaimed, he’d earned more money than he knew what to do with. With his reputation established, he began taking more free time and noticed the research assistant in his lab—Fran Matthews. He’d married her six months later.
“Chase?” Jillian’s soft voice asked.
The sound of his name on her lips jolted him back to the present. When he looked at her, he saw everything that was different from Fran. Jillian’s hair had red highlights. She was taller. Her energy was so much more vibrant than Fran’s.
He stopped himself there. He shouldn’t be making comparisons. He didn’t need to make comparisons.
Waving to the coffee table, he said, “I brought sandwiches and coffee.”
“I’m not—”
“I know—you’re not hungry. But you have to eat anyway. And don’t tell me you’ll eat supper. I’ve caught on to that ruse.”
“It’s not a ruse.”
As he studied her, he realized it wasn’t.
“Half a sandwich,” he negotiated. “And I won’t bug you about eating again.”
“Until supper,” she complained with a small smile.
Then tearing her gaze from his, she went over to the sofa and sat. “I went to the nurses’ desk to find out if there was any word.”
“We won’t know anything unless—” He stopped. “Until it’s over.”
He’d been about to say, “Unless something goes wrong,” but neither of them needed to dwell on that.
As he sat beside Jillian, he couldn’t deny his attraction to her and the guilt he felt about it. Maybe not the attraction itself, but the sparks that he never experienced in exactly that way with Fran. He wondered if those were the sparks that his father had once felt for Doreen Edwards. He’d gotten the impression that Eleanor had always thought his father had never completely forgotten Doreen, had never fallen out of love with her, and that’s why their marriage hadn’t been the best it could be. Once a man truly loved a woman, maybe he could never forget her.
During the next hour or so, Jillian kept her thoughts to herself and so did he. They both riffled through magazines they weren’t really reading. As she settled on the sofa, he moved to an armchair.
When Dr. Beckwith appeared in the doorway, he was still in his scrubs. “The surgery went well. I’m going to keep Marianne in the pediatric cardiac ICU for the next twelve hours. In about ninety minutes you can sit with her.”
Chase went to Beckwith and shook his hand. “Thank you.”
Jillian crossed over to them. “Yes, thank you very much.”
The doctor shook her hand, too. “No thanks necessary. It’s what I do.” A moment later, he was gone.
“I feel as if I can breathe again,” Jillian said with a slight smile.
“I know what you mean.”
Jillian’s expression turned serious. “What are we going to do, Chase?”
“Relax for a few minutes and clear our heads.”
“No, I don’t mean now, I mean—I have a life in Florida. You have one here. The girls got along like sisters this morning. If Marianne truly is my daughter…”
Taking Jillian by the shoulders, he shook his head. “Thinking ahead is going to make you crazy. Let’s just get Marianne through her recovery, get the DNA testing done, then we’ll decide.”
She was looking up at him with wide green eyes that made everything in his body tighten. He knew all the thoughts running through her head because they’d run through his—relocation, shared custody, nothing ever the same again. He wanted the emotional merry-go-round to stop for both of them and he suddenly wanted to quell his curiosity, kick the thought of kissing Jillian out of his head, go back to life the way he’d known it before Marianne’s symptoms had made surgery necessary.
The scent of Jillian’s perfume was light and airy and seductive. Her knit top delineated her breasts, and he knew they’d fill his hands perfectly. Parts south awakened with his desire, and a hungry need he didn’t think he’d ever known claimed him.
When he bent his head to kiss Jillian, he knew she wouldn’t pull away. He knew the tugs of attraction between them had been affecting her, too. He also knew Jillian was assertive enough and independent enough that she would have backed away long before now if she didn’t want any part of this.
As his head lowered slowly, she whispered, “We shouldn’t.” He wasn’t sure he was meant to hear the thought.
“Should or shouldn’t has nothing to do with this,” he growled.
Then his arms were around Jillian and he was pulling her close. Her breasts pressed against his flannel shirt. The contact was electric, sparking a fire that built higher and faster as his lips settled on hers. The shock and potency of the kiss rushed through him and he took it deeper, pushing his tongue into her mouth, breaching her world and her defenses. He’d never felt such pure animal need. He’d never let that loose with Fran, but then he’d never felt it so fiercely, either.
The sound of a metal tray clanging to the floor in the hall made him aware of his surroundings again with a jolt. What in the hell was he doing?
With a low oath, he broke the kiss and backed away. “You were right. I shouldn’t have done that. Everything is complicated enough.”
With a flush on her cheeks, Jillian took responsibility for her part in it. “I guess I let it happen because I was looking for a distraction.”
Even though he’d thought it, he didn’t like her saying it. “I’m going to take a walk to clear my head.” Hopefully the cold would cool down his body, too.
“I’m going to call Abby again. I’ll tell your mother the good news.”
As Jillian went to the phone, he left the lounge, shoving the kiss out of his head, telling himself it had been an experiment. That was all.
An experiment that had blown up in his face. He should have thought about calling his mother, but he was going to let Jillian take care of it. With enough fresh air, he’d forget about the kiss.
Fifteen minutes later, Chase strode down the sidewalk, his hands in his leather jacket pockets as he fingered a piece of paper in the right one. He’d dropped a phone number in there in case he wanted to use it.
They needed to have the DNA testing done soon. His doctor had told him they could have the results in two weeks, maybe before that if they used a private lab. He wanted them sooner. Everything was on hold until they knew for sure that Jillian was Marianne’s mother.
A sudden wind gust had a cutting edge to it but Chase didn’t care. As he walked toward the hospital, he stepped to the side of the building, took shelter in an alcove and pulled out his cell phone. Marianne was going to be spending time with Jillian and he wanted to find out exactly what kind of mother and woman she was. You couldn’t find that out from a P.I.’s report—not unless there were glaring character flaws.
There weren’t.
Still, he had the name of the woman who’d cared for Abby when Jillian was working. If he was lucky, she’d be willing to talk. If he was honest, maybe she’d be willing to confide in him.
He punched in Loretta Carmichael’s number and waited.
“Hello?” The voice was chipper. From the P.I.’s report he knew Mrs. Carmichael was in her fifties.
“Mrs. Carmichael?”
“Yes, that’s me. Are you selling something? I really don’t want to buy replacement windows or storm doors or security systems—”
“No, I’m not selling anything, Mrs. Carmichael. My name
is Chase Remmington.”
“Remmington? Oh…you’re the man who took Jillian and Abby back to Pennsylvania.”
“She told you then what that’s all about?” He hadn’t known how close Jillian and this woman were, but Jillian had made a series of calls before they’d left Florida and Loretta Carmichael must have been one of them.
“My lands, she certainly did. I can’t believe it. Switched babies. They make movies-of-the-week about that. I can’t believe little Abby isn’t hers. Why Abby talks like her Mom and leans her head like her Mom—”
Already Chase could tell that Loretta Carmichael was a chatterer, and he could use that to his advantage. “We’re still trying to iron out the whole situation,” he said in a tone that was meant to be confiding. “I’d like to be honest with you about why I called.”
“An honest man. Just like my Hubert, God rest his soul. I’m so glad to hear that.”
Chase shot to the reason why he called. “Mrs. Carmichael—”
“Call me Loretta.”
“Loretta. I’m in a strange situation. Jillian is going to be spending a lot of time with my daughter…maybe her daughter. I need to know what type of person she is, what type of mother she is. Could you fill me in?”
Loretta didn’t hesitate for a moment. “She’s a wonderful mother. Even when she’s working, she calls me every couple of hours and talks to Abby and sees how she’s doing. She takes her to the park. She takes her to a playgroup. She’s even gone to classes on how to handle the terrible twos and how to prepare Abby for school.”
Their Child? Page 24