The Baby Doctor

by Bobby Hutchinson

Dylan and his friend Brody Rathbone had met Sophie at the mall on the weekend, when she and Tessa were shopping.

  “Yeah, right. And guys really like girls with big stomachs. Give me a break.”

  “I told you before, you don’t show hardly at all, ’specially with that loose top. It’s real cute. And Brody doesn’t know anything. Dylan, either. I didn’t say a word to him about you having a baby.”

  Tessa rolled out the dough and handed Sophie one of the cookie cutters, a heart. “Seems to me you got a right to have some fun once in a while. And if Jason hears about it, so what? A little competition might do him a lotta good.” But Tessa didn’t feel all that wonderful about coaxing Sophie to come with her. Sophie was an innocent. She couldn’t really take care of herself the way she could, Tessa concluded.

  And she didn’t much like Brody Rathbone, when it came down it. He might be Dylan’s newest best buddy, but he was a bit of a sleaze ball, in her opinion. Sophie’s dad would freak right out if he ever found out Sophie was anywhere near somebody like Brody Rathbone. Tessa knew that would do it as far as she was concerned. He’d never let her near Sophie again.

  Well, serve the doc right. Why should she worry about Sophie’s dad? Tessa thought. He didn’t think she was good enough to be Sophie’s friend anyhow. And he sure wasn’t home making supper right now, was he? She’d bet Morgan wasn’t, either. They were probably off somewhere together, getting it on. The only person who was ever home these days seemed to be the old lady, and she was there all the time. She never stepped foot outside the door. Tessa had had about all she could take of India. She’d somehow even stolen Skippy away, and he was supposed to be Tessa’s dog.

  ‘‘So what d’ya say, Soph? Wanna come?”

  Sophie hesitated and then nodded. “Okay. I guess. I’ve gotta be back before ten, though. My father said he’d be home about then.”

  “No problem. I told Dylan I’d meet him at seven. We got lots a time. Here, shove these on this cookie sheet and we’ll put them in the oven. We can find a box and take the guys some, they’d get off on that.”

  What the heck, she and Sophie deserved a little fun. And the hollow feeling in the pit of her gut was probably just because she was hungry.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tessa was a little drunk, but she made certain Sophie didn’t touch a drop.

  Dylan and Brody had smuggled a bottle of vodka into the cafe, but no way was she gonna let Soph drink. Everybody with half a brain knew what alcohol did to a fetus.

  Tess hadn’t eaten much except a couple of the cookies they’d made, so the alcohol went straight to her head. She couldn’t seem to stop laughing, and she knew she was acting goofy, but the guys were being a big bore, bragging it up about some new business they had and how they were gonna get rich.

  Dylan pulled her close and showed her a roll of twenties. “You need anything, baby, you let old Dylan know. Soon as you’re sixteen and legal, we can go travelin’ down to California or Florida on the bike, right?”

  Yeah, right. Weird, how she used to really believe Dylan when he talked like that. She’d really wanted to go with him once, but now she wasn’t so sure.

  She’d gotten this thing in her head about finishing school and maybe even going on to art school afterward. Just last week her teacher had said she had talent. He wanted her to enroll in a special drawing class.

  They made her nervous, all these new feelings, so she had another gulp of her drink and then started pretending as if she were India to make Sophie laugh, acting like she was some big movie star or something, really camping it up. But of course the guys didn’t get it.

  “India’s Morgan’s mother,” she explained. “She’s, like, this really bummed out old actress. She used to live in Hollywood and do laundry soap commercials, but she acts like she was a major movie star or something.”

  Tessa tilted her head back and half closed her eyes, trying for a facsimile of India’s deep, dramatic voice. “Bette Davis? But of course I knew Bette, although she was rather a lot older than me. Our eyes are similar, darling. And I married her third cousin once removed. He gave me this gold bracelet, or was it my diamond earrings? No, no, it had to be the sterling collar.”

  Sophie giggled. “Or maybe it was that fur coat you said she has.”

  “Yeah? What kinda fur coat?” Dylan, at least, was showing some interest. Brody Rathbone was such a pig, he just slumped in the corner of the booth with his eyes half shut, staring at Sophie’s boobs and salivating. Honestly.

  “Oh, I dunno. Mink, probably.”

  “Tessa says her jewelry’s all real, too. Right, Tess?” Sophie moved a little farther away from Brody.

  “Oh, yeah, it’s real all right.” Even though India was a royal pain in the butt Tess couldn’t help but admire her belongings. She sneaked into India’s room sometimes when the old woman was sleeping downstairs and tried things on.

  “She told me she got it all as gifts from Hollywood studios and things, but I don’t believe her. She’s been married umpteen dozen times. I figure she took the guys for all she could get and then bought herself all that stuff with the money.”

  “Figures,” Dylan sneered. “Broads are famous for that. So, is she really rich, this old bitch?” He snickered at his rhyme and poured more vodka into the soda glasses, but Tess didn’t really want more. She was feeling dizzy and sort of sick. She also felt a little uneasy at making fun of India. She was Morgan’s mother. It didn’t really feel right to ridicule her.

  “She’s got her jewelry and clothes and stuff. I guess if she sold that she’d be rich, but she hasn’t got much money.” Tess had sneaked a peek at India’s bankbooks one day when she left her purse in the bathroom.

  All at once Tess was ashamed of herself for poking through India’s things. And she was bored to death with Dylan and Brody and their bragging.

  “C’mon, Soph, we better get going. You said your dad was gonna be home at ten and it’s almost nine already.” She grabbed her coat and handed Sophie hers.

  “What’s the big rush, Tess?” Dylan was annoyed. “Stick around. We ain’t even had burgers yet. I can run you home on the bike later on.

  “Sure, Tessa, you stay here. I can drive Sophie home, I got my car outside.” Brody came to life for the first time all evening, reaching for his coat.

  “Not,” Tessa muttered under her breath. No way was she sending Soph anywhere alone with Brody Rathbone.

  “No, thanks. We’re both takin’ the bus.” She slipped her jacket on and waited for Sophie.

  Dylan watched her, eyes narrowed with displeasure. “Be ready to go Thursday night around eight, Tessa. There’s a party over at Pete’s place. I’ll come by on the bike for ya.”

  Pete was a real druggie.

  “Sorry, Dylan. I’m goin’ out that night.” It was the play at the church, the one she’d helped design the sets for. She’d thought briefly of asking Dylan to come and see it, but he’d make fun of her for having anything to do with a church, and she really didn’t want him to even know.

  “Oh, yeah? And just who’re ya goin’ out with?”

  “With the whole football team, who d’ya think?” Tessa realized too late that she’d made Dylan mad, and she quickly changed her tone. “With Morgan and her mother. We’re going to a play.”

  “A play, huh? Well, la de da. If that’s how yer gonna be, screw you, Tessa. There’s lots a babes out there. You can go to hell. And take yer little friend with ya.” With a vicious sweep of his arm, Dylan sent the glasses flying off the table.

  Sophie let out a terrified squeal.

  Tessa saw a waitress hurry into the back, and a man in a cook’s apron came running out.

  “Let’s go.” Tessa grabbed Sophie’s arm and hustled them both out of the cafe, wondering as they ran hand in hand down the street to the bus stop why Dylan suddenly seemed like an even bigger jerk than Brody.

  Morgan squinted at the watch she’d tossed on the bedside table and yawned. She had to get up, but the warmth of Luke�
��s body and the way his arms cradled her made her settle again, conscious of the seconds ticking by, but reluctant to move. They were curled spoon fashion, her back to his front, and it felt like heaven.

  Ten more minutes, she promised herself. Ten more minutes, and then she’d go for sure.

  “You awake, love?” His breath tickled the hair on her neck, and she wriggled onto her back and turned her head to look at him. He kissed her nose and she smiled at him, her heart contracting with love. His hair was mussed and his eyes had the heavy, contented look they got after lovemaking.

  “You dozed off. I could feel the difference in your breathing,” he said. “You’re tired. I wish we could just stay here the rest of the night.” His voice deepened. “I’d like to wake up beside you here some morning soon.”

  “Me, too, Luke.” She’d like to wake up beside him in her own bed, so very much, but wanting that was dangerous.

  “What time is it?”

  “Eight forty-five.”

  “Damn. I have to go. I told Sophie I’d be home at ten,” he said, reluctance evident in his tone. “I wish to God she’d settle on a housekeeper. She’s found some reason to reject every single person who’s answered my ad.”

  Morgan thought of the way Sophie’s face had looked that afternoon when she spoke of Luke, the longing and the resentment intermingled. “Maybe she just wants you all to herself for awhile,” she said cautiously. “Sophie’s probably feeling scared. She’s bound to be really vulnerable and insecure right now. She needs her daddy.”

  It was as close as Morgan dared come to bringing up the violent emotions she knew Sophie harbored.

  He cocked an eyebrow at her, his green eyes too perceptive. “She told you that when she came in for her checkup today?”

  Morgan avoided his eyes. “Not in so many words,” she lied. “It’s just obvious to me she feels that way.” She moved away from him and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

  “Where did you pitch my underwear?” She got down on her hands and knees, peering under the bed as her mind flitted over the things that were troubling her. “I’m going to talk to Tessa about us, Luke. Maybe you ought to do the same with Sophie.”

  Morgan found her panties and got to her feet, stepping into them. “I’m really worried about Tess. This thing with her and India is making me crazy. It’s mostly India’s fault,” she confided, forgetting that she’d decided not to tell him her problems. “She won’t quit ordering Tess around, expecting her to wait on her hand and foot. I’ve talked to her, for all the good it does. It’s an awful thing to say, but I wish the holidays were over so she’d go home. Honestly, I could wring her neck sometimes.”

  She glanced up and realized that Luke wasn’t listening to a thing she was saying. He was looking at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses.

  “What did you mean when you said I should talk to Sophie about us? You can’t possibly believe I should tell my daughter that you and I are lovers?”

  He sounded so aghast that Morgan would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious. She tossed the blankets aside, found her bra near the bottom of the bed and put it on. Her tights were on top of the dresser, and she sat down on the bed and struggled into them.

  “You won’t have to tell her, Luke. She already knows.” She gave her skirt a shake and stepped into it. It was pretty badly creased, but what the heck. She was only going home.

  “You told her? About us?” He was aghast. Morgan shrugged and smiled at him, buttoning her blouse and tucking it in. “She asked me, so, yeah, I did. But she already knew. Tessa told her. They’re very bright young women, Luke. They can put two and two together.”

  “I happen to think my sex life is my own private business, Morgan, not something to be discussed with fifteen-year-old children.” He was shoving his legs into his trousers, and it was obvious by the ferocity of his actions that he was angry with her.

  Damn the man! How could he be so smart and yet so blind to things he needed to see? There was so much going on with Sophie that he ought to realize and didn’t, but he was all steamed up because the kid knew about sex, for Pete’s sake. How did he figure she’d gotten pregnant?

  Granted, there was plenty going on with Tess, too, but Morgan was going to get to the bottom of that right away, she vowed. At least she was aware there was something wrong.

  Morgan knew she probably shouldn’t interfere in his relationship with his daughter, but she thought of Sophie’s face, the anger and pain reflected there, and she threw caution to the winds. Somebody had to tell him.

  “Sophie’s not a child, Luke. Unfortunately, she’s not an adult, either. She’s caught somewhere between and she’s about to have a baby. She needs all the support she can get right now, from you and everyone around her.” Well, she’d blown it already, she might as well dump the rest on him. “Most of all, I think she needs to be in touch with her baby’s father. I think you’re making a huge mistake keeping them apart. You ought to let them deal with this together.”

  There, it was out. She steeled herself for the inevitable explosion.

  Luke had shrugged into his shirt, and he was sitting on the bed pulling on his socks. There was a long, tense moment of strained silence, and then he said in a dangerously quiet tone, “Do you, Morgan? Well, I think you make a huge mistake letting Tessa run wild with that thug who fathered her baby, so we’re even. We don’t agree on child rearing methods and it’s probably best that we don’t discuss them.”

  His controlled, superior tone infuriated her, and his criticism hurt, because Dylan was an issue that she’d spent half the afternoon worrying about.

  Her voice rose. “That’s how you deal with issues, is it, by not discussing them? Ignoring things doesn’t make them go away, you know. I’d have thought you’d have learned that by now, because Sophie sure isn’t a happy young woman. And I feel sorry for her, because I see how hard it is to talk anything over with you.”

  This time she succeeded in making him lose control. He’d been trying to knot his tie, and he ripped it off and rounded on her. “Damn you, Morgan! Why must you meddle in things that aren’t your concern?”

  Here it was, the thing she knew was between them, would always be between them, the thing that hurt her more than anything else. He wanted her, but only in part of his life, this sexual, passionate part they did so well together, but not in any other. He wanted a mistress instead of a partner. He wanted a lover instead of a friend.

  “Sophie’s my patient, Luke. She’s become my concern whether you like it or not. Oh, I know you’d be more comfortable if she and I had never met. I know that very well.” Her voice rose with her temper, and words came out that she’d never planned to say to him, at least not now.

  “This houseboat of yours. It’s like...like a little island to you, isn’t it? A place to make love to me, to hide away, to keep this part of your life separate from the rest? Well, it doesn’t work that way with me. I spill over, don’t I, Luke? And that bothers you. As you just said, I meddle.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  He was every bit as angry as she was, and that satisfied her. It was about time he got emotionally involved. Some small part of her realized she was out of control, but the rest of her didn’t care. She’d been lying to herself and to him, and it was time for honesty.

  “There’s nothing ridiculous about any of this. The only ridiculous thing is that I love you, you stupid man, and you don’t even see it!” she shouted at him. It felt terrifying and liberating to holler this way. “I want to be included in your life, all of your life, not just the bits you feel are suitable. I want marriage and children and all the problems that go with them, not a few hours every couple of days on a houseboat. And if you won’t offer me all that, I’ll find someone who will.” The words were out before she could stop them, and once they were, she felt incredible relief.

  He stared at her, openmouthed, shocked out of his anger.

  “I love you,” she repeated with passion,
her voice still decibels louder than normal. “I care what happens to you. I care what happens to Sophie and her baby and the young man she loves. I also know that’s the last thing you want, me and my messy feelings slopping all over your tidy life.” She was shaking, and she couldn’t for the life of her remember where she’d left her boots. She stormed out of the bedroom, aware that he was behind her.

  “Morgan, wait just a minute here. We need to talk. You can’t just say these things and then leave.”

  “Why not? There’s nothing much left to talk about.” One of her boots was on the kitchen counter. The other had landed in the sink. How in heck had it gotten there? She grabbed them and shoved her feet into them, then rescued her coat from the floor by the door and put it on.

  “I can’t do this anymore. I guess I’ve found out I’m an all-or-nothing kind of person. I can’t go on not wanting anything from you except what we have here.”

  She opened the door and gasped at the force of the wind and rain. “I want it all. I want you and Sophie over for Christmas dinner, I want to spoil her baby rotten when it comes, I want you to fight with India for me, I want to go to bed with you and not have to get up like this and go home afterward.” She stepped out on the deck and turned to look at him. His shirttails were hanging out, his feet bare. He looked so beautiful it hurt her heart.

  “And, Luke, I really do think you ought to at least let Sophie talk to her baby’s father, because she’s really unhappy about the way you’ve handled that. ’Bye.”

  “Morgan, you come back here.”

  She ignored him. She hurried down the gang-plank and along the walkway.

  By the time Luke got his shoes on and made it out to the parking lot, her Jeep was gone.

  Bloody, bloody hell. Fuming with anger and frustration, he unlocked his car and climbed inside, slamming the door after himself hard enough to damage it.

  He didn’t start the motor, however. Instead, he sat and stared blindly out at the downpour, trying to figure out how a simple disagreement had escalated into Morgan’s leaving him.