The Baby Doctor

by Bobby Hutchinson

  He looked puzzled. “What kind of things did you lose?”

  “Oh, instruments, charts, orders. A cadaver once or twice, but that wasn’t my fault. The guys in the morgue kept playing jokes on me. Although a couple of times patients got misplaced for an hour or two. You know, the surgical rotation was the very worst. Those guys are so anal about the tiniest things, like clamps and sterile procedure and stuff.” She held her hands up in a “Go figure” gesture.

  He laughed, and she thought how much laughter suited him. His dark lashed eyes crinkled, and attractive lines appeared beside his mouth. He had strong, straight teeth.

  He didn’t laugh enough, she decided. But of course, what with his wife’s death and now his daughter’s pregnancy, he probably didn’t have a whole lot to laugh about.

  “That’s what was so great about obstetrics,” she went on with unfeigned enthusiasm. “I’m right at home. Babies come when they feel like it. In the delivery room a flap is the norm instead of the exception. And the birth process.” She widened her eyes and shook her head. “Gosh, it’s the biggest miracle. There’s never any possibility of getting bored. ”

  He saw the glow in her eyes, the passion for the job she loved, and he nodded agreement. “As long as things go well, it’s the very best specialty there is. When they go bad, it tears your heart out.” A shadow crossed his face, and Morgan knew he was thinking of Tessa’s baby, just as she was. He was probably also thinking of Sophie and her pregnancy.

  She wondered if he’d given any thought to the group Frannie was forming. She wondered, too, if she had the right to ask more about Sophie. Surely they ought to be open and honest with each other if this newfound friendship was going to work? She threw caution to the winds.

  “Speaking of babies, how’s your daughter doing, Luke?”

  His face was suffused with pain for an instant. “Physically, well enough. She’s still furious with me, so there’s not a lot of communication between us.”

  “What’s she so mad about?”

  “Everything I say or do, it seems.”

  “Gosh, I’m sorry. That’s so tough on both of you. Is there someone she’s close to, somebody she can talk with?”

  He considered the question and then shook his head. “1 have a housekeeper, but Sophie and Eileen don’t get on.”

  “Then maybe you ought to get another one, someone she likes better.” Morgan realized her comment wasn’t particularly polite. She was too accustomed to saying exactly what was on her mind, she chided herself.

  He looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and she was afraid he was going to tell her to mind her own business. But then he gave a reluctant nod.

  “I’ve thought of doing that, but we’ve had a series of housekeepers since my wife’s death, and Sophie’s reacted the same way to all of them. She resents everyone I hire.”

  “Why not let her do the hiring?”

  He shot her a scandalized look. It was obvious the thought had never crossed his mind.

  “Probably losing her mother was pretty traumatic for her,” Morgan went on recklessly. “Kids sometimes react with anger when actually they’re feeling sorrow. I didn’t know that myself, but Frannie pointed it out. Not just kids, either. Weren’t you angry when your wife died, Luke?”

  Too late, she realized that she’d overstepped some boundary, because Luke’s jaw had tightened ominously and a muscle jumped beside his mouth.

  His green eyes had gone cold and still.

  Chapter Nine

  Morgan felt acutely uncomfortable.

  Luke obviously didn’t want to talk about his daughter or his wife’s death, but there was one more thing she wanted to mention.

  “Tessa’s going to join that group I told you about. The first meeting’s next Monday night.

  “Yes, I heard. I took your advice and spoke to Frannie Myles yesterday,” he surprised herby saying. “I told Sophie about the meeting. It sounds like something she needs.”

  “D’you think she’ll go?”

  Luke shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  The waiter came to clear the dinner plates and ask about dessert and coffee, and when he left, Luke changed the subject. “Did you grow up in Vancouver, Morgan?”

  It was obvious he wanted them back on neutral ground. She shook her head in answer to his question, wondering how much of her life she ought to reveal. Undoubtedly, her childhood had been the complete opposite of his.

  “I was born in Los Angeles, and I lived there until I finished high school. My mother was a Hollywood actress.”

  He raised his brows in surprise. ‘‘Would I have seen her work in the cinema?”

  “Maybe. Not too likely. India tried both stage and screen, but she never made it big. She did quite a few commercials, though, and she had a few small parts in some dusters. Her name’s actually Gertrude. She’d murder me if she knew I told anyone.”

  He looked interested, so Morgan went on, “She’s retired now. She’s sixty-four and living in a trailer in Florida. I go down to see her every couple of years.”

  Less, actually. It had been three and a half years since the last awkward visit “We’re not very close. We never were.”

  The subject of her mother wasn’t an easy one. Memories of growing up with India were still excruciatingly painful; Morgan usually hid that pain behind a facade of humor, turning her lonely, chaotic childhood into a cartoon sketch. She didn’t feel like doing that now. “How about you, Luke? Did you have a mom who wore an apron and baked cookies?”

  The very idea of his mother making cookies must have been preposterous, because it made him tilt his head back and laugh. “My mother knows nothing about cooking. We always had help to do that sort of thing.”

  Morgan stopped eating and leaned toward him. “Servants? You mean you actually had servants?”

  He shrugged. “Well, people who performed the necessary household tasks, certainly. But that was when I was a child and the family still had money. My father died seven years ago. Mother sold most of the estate and lives quite simply now.”

  “It sounds as if you grew up in one of those English mansions.” She could see him in that setting. “Did you?”

  “I did, and I can tell you, they’re cold as hell. I very much appreciate central heating.”

  “So you went to private schools and all that?” The awe in her voice brought a whimsical smile to his lips.

  “In England we call them public schools, just to be contrary. I was shipped off at the age of five. It’s not the perfect way to spend a childhood, believe me. But then, I doubt there are many perfect childhoods.”

  Morgan doubted it, too, although she was pretty sure most had to be better than the one she’d had. “Were you an only child, too?”

  He nodded. “Mother had had another baby many years before I was born, but he died at the age of three. My parents were already quite old when I came along. Mother was forty-two and Father was fifty, and they obviously hadn’t planned on having me. Their lives were busy and regulated, golfing, hunting, fishing in Scotland, that sort of thing. I was a nuisance.”

  Morgan nodded, even though the life he described was only familiar from the movies. But she suspected there was at least one same element in his childhood that had been in hers. Loneliness.

  “Like you, Morgan, I’m not particularly close to my mother. We exchange letters every several months.”

  “She’s never come to Canada for a visit?”

  “Oh, yes, twice. Once when I was married and again when my wife was killed. It was fairly strained both times.”

  “And have you gone back to England?”

  “Once. For a medical conference a year before my father died. I took Deborah and Sophie.” He grimaced. “It wasn’t exactly a successful visit. Sophie developed measles and my mother was terrified everyone in the house would get them, most of all herself. She’s very concerned with her health.”

  “My mother’s obsessed with her appearance,” Morgan sai
d. “India’s beautiful, and I was a big disappointment to her. I think she’s always believed that the hospital made a mistake, because as a kid I looked sort of like J. Edgar Hoover with carroty hair.”

  He didn’t smile, Instead his eyes traveled over her face like a caress, and he said, “You’ve certainly changed since then.”

  “C’mon, Luke. Don’t tease.” Totally flustered by the compliment and at a loss for something to say, Morgan took a big bite of the chocolate cheesecake she’d ordered.

  “Mmm, you ought to try some of this. Here, have a spoonful.” She held it out to him. Instead of taking the spoon from her, he opened his mouth and allowed her to feed him. His lips closed, slowly, sensually, intimately, around the spoon, and his eyes met hers and seemed to smolder with banked desire.

  A wave of pure longing rolled over her. It made her nervous, and she felt immense relief when he continued their conversation.

  “You haven’t mentioned your father, Morgan.”

  “That’s because I never really met him. India was a marrying fool. It was the only thing she and Liz Taylor had in common. I had five stepfathers, as well as my own real father, of course. He was India’s first husband and he left when I was a couple of months old, never to be heard from again. I think my mother’s been married six times in all, but I may have lost count.”

  “And were they kind to you, all those stepfathers?”

  Morgan gave him a candid look. “None of them molested me, which I now realize was just plain luck. Mostly they ignored me. Some I didn’t really know very well, and I doubt India did, either. They weren’t even around long enough for me to get their names straight.”

  Her voice softened. “There was one special guy, though. I used to pretend he was my real father, husband number five. Pete Mahoney, a builder. Actually, it was because of Pete that I ended up in medicine.”

  “He encouraged you?”

  “Nope. Oh, he probably would have if we’d ever talked about it, but we didn’t. I never in my wildest dreams thought of being a doctor back then. I just wanted to get through high school and move far away from India because we weren’t getting along. Pete married her when I was fourteen. He lasted three years and five months, which was some kind of record, and he and I became good friends. Pete was a thoroughly nice guy, the closest I ever got to having a real father. And he stayed my friend even though India divorced him and went on to marry someone else.”

  She frowned, trying to recall who came next in India’s marriage roster. “Jackson, was it? Or maybe it was Theo. I can’t remember. Anyhow, all during high school Pete would call and take me out for a burger and we’d sit and talk, he’d listen to all my farfetched ideas and make sure I had enough spending money. He came to my high school graduation. When I moved here we wrote, and in one of the last letters I got, he said he wasn’t feeling well. I wanted to go see him, but I had the cafe at that time and it was next to impossible to get away, so I kept putting it off.”

  She stared down at her dessert plate, remembering.

  “You had a cafe?" Luke’s deep voice encouraged her to go on with her story. She glanced up to find he was giving her all his attention, forgetting even to drink his coffee, and she was both embarrassed and flattered.

  She hadn’t planned to monopolize the entire conversation with stories about her past. “Yeah, you know the Firehouse Grill over on Fourth? Well, I started that. It’s a lot fancier now than when I had it. It was just a little hole-in-the-wall place I rented for next to nothing, but the food was pretty good.”

  She tilted her chin up. “Actually, I’m a great short-order cook. I just don’t get much time to do it anymore. Anyhow, I didn’t go to see Pete, and next thing I heard he’d died,” She was quiet for a moment, reliving the guilt and awful grief she’d suffered at that time. “He left me a substantial inheritance,” she added in a quiet tone. “Enough to pay my way through medical school.”

  She looked up, straight into Luke’s thoughtful eyes, and gave him a rueful smile. “Pete worked hard all his life, and I figured I ought to do something worthwhile with his money, so I sold the grill and started university. One thing led to another, and I ended up in medicine.”

  She sat back in her chair, drew in a deep breath and let it out again. How had she ended up telling him all this stuff?

  “So, now you know all about my checkered past. I’m a real bore when I get going. Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not. Nobody can ever accuse you of being boring, my dear.” The stern look he gave her sent a wave of heat coursing through her body. His voice was rough edged, and it seemed to caress her like a touch. “I think I’ve told you before that I find you a lovely and quite fascinating woman.”

  She finally remembered what to do with a compliment

  “Thank you,” she said, and then grinned at him and crossed her eyes. But the words and the way he said them stayed with her for the rest of the magical evening.

  They lingered over coffee, discussed seeing a show or going to a club, but instead, they strolled down Vancouver’s nighttime streets like tourists, looking in shop windows, watching the passing parade, not even talking very much.

  At some point, Luke took her hand in his, and Morgan was astounded at the sensations that assailed her. She’d never considered herself a particularly sensual woman. Certainly, as far as she knew, men had never been attracted to her in a passionate way. There’d been one short-lived sexual encounter at university, and another, more intense and longer lasting, when she was interning. She’d fallen in love that second time, deeply and romantically. As it turned out, Glen had, too...with someone else.

  That breakup had been incredibly painful. Unlike India, who seemed content with quantity instead of quality, Morgan had always dreamed of creating the stable family unit she’d never had as a child, the adoring husband she’d grow old with, the half dozen babies of her own. Happily ever after.

  She’d thought her heart was literally breaking when Glen left, and for a long time she avoided involvement. That was when she’d decided on obstetrics. If she wasn’t having her own babies, she’d deliver other people’s.

  Even though it was difficult at first, she’d stayed friends with Glen, and she’d pretended to be happy when he’d gone on to marry the other woman. She’d attended his wedding and even ended up delivering two of his babies.

  By then, she was totally over him, thank goodness, and she was happy again. Obstetrics was both demanding and time-consuming and marvelous. Her late twenties passed in a blur of work, and by her early thirties, she realized she’d mastered the knack of turning would be suitors into buddies. Maybe she was never intended to be a wife and mother, she rationalized. She’d bought her house, and then Tessa came along, and now she had a family of sorts.

  And then came Luke.

  She’d never experienced anything like the powerful sexual reaction she felt now, just having his fingers threaded through hers. He absently stroked his thumb over her knuckles, and once he lifted her hand and pressed his lips to it.

  At last they made their way back to the lot where the car was parked.

  “I guess I should get home,” she said with reluctance. “Saturday office hours.” It was her turn.

  “It’s not that late. What about a drive?”

  “Okay,” she agreed before the words were fully out of his mouth, and they both laughed.

  Like teenagers reluctant to end a date, they agreed on a slow circuit of Stanley Park; they discovered that neither of them had taken the time to do that for years.

  It was a clear, calm night, and the lights from the houses on the North Shore mountains reflected in the waters of the inlet. Luke pulled the car into one of the viewpoints and turned off the motor and the lights.

  Morgan’s heart began to hammer. In the darkness, she could see only his profile, the chiseled perfection of forehead, his strong nose, his powerful jaw. He turned slightly, reaching across the gearshift mechanism and capturing her hand once again.

  His
crisp British baritone was soft, even a bit hesitant “I’ve enjoyed this evening more than I can say, Morgan. It’s been good getting to know you.” He paused, a note of sad irony in his tone when he continued. “There aren’t really many people I confide in. The man I considered my closest friend is the father of the boy responsible for Sophie’s pregnancy.” His voice hardened. “Needless to say, we’re not friends any longer.”

  Morgan gave his fingers a sympathetic squeeze. “I understand, because I sure don’t feel friendly toward Dylan Volger, either. After the baby’s funeral, I confronted him. It was all I could do not to physically attack him, I was so mad.”

  He made a small sound in his throat. “I must confess, I came close to smashing my fist into Jason’s nose at one point. I never realized I could lose control that quickly or completely.” He fell silent, and then after what seemed a longtime, his voice deepened, and he added, “The only other time I felt that total loss of control was when I kissed you the other day, Morgan.”

  She knew all of a sudden that he was planning to kiss her again, and she panicked. The intimacy of the car’s interior, the charged emotion that was suddenly between them made her breath catch in her throat. “Let’s get out for a minute, okay?” Without waiting for his answer, she fumbled the car door open.

  The night was soft and very dark, and she fled recklessly down a flight of stone steps, heading for a small observation terrace where a single streetlight burned.

  She was terribly aware of him when he caught up with her halfway toward her destination. He slid his arm around her shoulders, steadying her when she stumbled in her unfamiliar shoes. She moved straight toward the light, pausing only when she was directly beneath it.

  Luke took her shoulders in each of his hands. “Talk to me, Morgan.” There was a thread of anger in his voice. “Why the hell does the thought of my kissing you upset you so?”

  “Because.” She could hardly get her breath. “Because we have to work together, and because... because passion turns people into total maniacs. I’ve watched it disrupt whole teams at St. Joe’s. We’re far too busy to complicate everything that way, and I’d, I’d rather just be your friend—” you liar, Morgan “—and because... Oh, damn,” she wailed. “Because I’m scared. I’m just not much good at, umm, at all this stuff.”