Father to Be

by Marilyn Pappano

  “It’s been a long time,” Noah whispered to his reflection in the window. “Sometimes I can’t ’member … Is Caleb going away?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe he will. First Mama had to go, then Daddy. Maybe Caleb will too, and then Jacob, and then I’ll have to go, and Gracie will be all alone. We’ll all be all alone.”

  “No, Noah. You can live the rest of your life in Bethlehem if you want. You won’t ever have to go anywhere.”

  The boy didn’t turn to look at him, but instead whispered once more to the window, “We’ll all be all alone.”

  J.D. was relieved to see the nursing home ahead. He parked out front, then circled the truck to help Noah and Buddy out. “Buddy comes here every week to visit,” he explained, crouching in front of the boy. “All you have to do is hold his leash and follow him around. If he tries to take something that isn’t his, tell him no, and if someone wants him to sit so they can pet him, say, ‘Sit, Buddy.’ ”

  The Lab hastily obeyed.

  “Good boy.” He scratched behind the dog’s ear. “Are you ready?”

  Noah wrapped the red leash around his hand. “Are there sick people in there?”

  “A few. Mostly they’re just old people.”

  “Do they like seeing Buddy?”

  “Sure. Don’t you?”

  He nodded but didn’t look reassured. “I don’t know no old people.”

  “They’re just people, Noah. They’re somebody’s grandmas and grandpas.”

  “I don’t got none of them.”

  “They’re like Miss Agatha and Miss Corinna.”

  A look of relief swept over his features. “Oh. Well, that’s okay.”

  They walked up the sidewalk and through the double doors. J.D. checked in at the front desk, then he and Noah took Buddy to the first of the bedridden patients, who always saw the dog ahead of the others. Initially, Noah hung back, his head ducked, his shoulders hunched, his whole body somehow compressed, as if he might render himself invisible. After a time, though, he answered one question, then asked one of his own, then gradually eased right up to the bed. By the time J.D. was paged over the intercom, he felt confident enough to leave Noah in Buddy’s and the patients’ care.

  Kelsey was waiting at the front desk, her expression equally perplexed and thoughtful. “When did all this come about?” she asked with an encompassing gesture.

  “About eighteen months ago.”

  “And you came to town …?”

  “About eighteen months ago.” He grinned. “What do you think?”

  She looked around the lobby, and so did he. Nothing in the decor suggested institution. One wall was painted with a folk art mural of mountains, forest, and towns, and another provided the canvas for a life-size tree whose limbs stretched across the cloud-spotted, blue-sky ceiling. The furniture was upholstered, with plenty of pillows and throws, and the coffee tables, bookcases, and lamps wouldn’t look out of place in anyone’s home. The birds were a little noisy, he admitted, when they all got to chirping at once, but the splash of water in the corner fountain helped mute the racket.

  “It beats beige walls and orange plastic chairs,” she remarked. “Though I think I could live without the cats.” She gently nudged one away with her toe, but the cat wasn’t so easily deterred. It chose to wind itself around her other ankle.

  Start simply, work your way up, and be persistent. Smart creature.

  “Maybe you could live without the cats, but some of our residents here couldn’t. Going into a nursing home is hard enough for most folks, but when they have to leave behind the pets who have been the most faithful of their companions, it can break their hearts. Geriatric patients don’t live long with a broken heart.”

  “So you have cats and birds and …?”

  “There’s a rabbit in the dayroom and aquariums in the sun room, and though we don’t have a resident dog, they get visits four or five times a week from neighborhood dogs.” He gestured toward the main corridor on the other side of the desk, and they started that way. “We also have plants in every room, bird feeders outside the windows, and regular visits from kids’ groups in town, and out back there’s playground equipment and picnic tables.”

  “And what’s the payoff for all this?”

  “A death rate lower than the statewide average. A lower incidence of infection. A lower hospitalization rate. And we use less medication than most homes this size.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He screwed up his face as if struck a mortal blow. “Aw, come on, Ms. Malone, surely you can do better than that. How about, ‘Wow, Dr. Grayson, I’m impressed!’?”

  “You don’t need me to be impressed. Everyone else fawns all over you.”

  “They do? What do they say?”

  Shaking her head with good-humored dismay, she stepped inside the dining room. Like the lobby, it was decorated to look as if it belonged in any home. Well, any home that routinely served sixty meals three times a day. “I am impressed, Dr. Grayson.”

  “Good.” He grinned again as he indicated the dining room with a sweeping gesture. “And what do you think of the home?”

  “I was talking about the home,” she said dryly.

  “I could impress you too if you’d give me a chance.”

  “And how would you do that?”

  “I’m very smart.”

  “And very smug.”

  “I run fast.”

  “Your legs are long.”

  “But I’d let you catch me.”

  “As if I’d try.” She crossed the hallway to the look into the sun room, then continued down the corridor.

  “Everyone adores me.”

  “Must be your incredibly modest nature.”

  As they reached the end of the hallway, where glass doors led into the backyard, he stepped in front of her to block her way. She drew up short only inches before colliding with him. “I’m a great catch,” he murmured.

  She started to take a breath, then apparently thought better of it. He didn’t blame her. Every breath he took was heavy with the fragrance of aftershave and perfume, delicately mixed to create a new scent neither his nor hers but theirs—and thoroughly enticing. “Too bad my motto is No keepers,” she said softly, breathlessly.

  “Then maybe …” Though he knew he shouldn’t, he raised his hand, slid a finger underneath a strand of hair that had escaped her braid, and tucked it behind her ear. “Maybe we should work on finding you a new motto.”

  She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Please, J.D.”

  “You don’t have to say please.”

  “Please don’t—”

  “You really shouldn’t say don’t.”

  Her laughter was wobbly and unsteady as she backed away. “You are—”

  He folded his arms across his chest to keep from reaching out to her again, then leaned against the wall. “Incredible? Amazing?”

  “Insufferable. Impossible. Are you sure my office approved you to foster those kids?”

  “You’ve got the papers, signed and approved.”

  As if the mention of papers jogged her memory, she glanced down at her briefcase, then back at him. “Mrs. Duncan.”

  He blinked, shifted mental gears. “Room 7B. Back to the central desk, turn right. I’ll show you.”

  “I can find it.”

  “Then I’ll follow you.” And enjoy every step of the way, he thought as she retraced their path. Of course, for maximum enjoyment, he wished her long, full dress would be replaced by something shorter, snugger, and a little more revealing. But even with long and full, it was a view to be appreciated.

  “Definitely impossible,” she murmured as she passed elderly twin sisters with matching blue hair.

  And she sounded as if she meant it.

  Chapter Nine

  On Saturday the circus came to town.

  Well, not exactly the circus. Carnival, Kelsey supposed, was a more appropriate description for the assemblage on the empty field beh
ind the high school. She’d jogged by there early that morning and watched as burly men in sleeveless shirts that showed their tattoos set up the rides and booths. She’d even earned a whistle from a man with a dark and wicked smile. She’d stick to the safe, respectable type, thank you.

  Ten hours later, as she walked through the gate and her gaze lit immediately on J.D., she faced an inescapable fact. Safe and respectable could, depending on its package, be far more dangerous than all the dark, wicked smiles in the world.

  He was standing in front of a game booth with the kids. He wore shorts and a T-shirt, like the majority of the men present, and a Chicago Cubs cap pulled low over his eyes. He looked like any other father out with his family. All that was missing was the mother.

  Kelsey turned away, heading off down one side of the midway instead. She felt funny coming to a carnival alone. Everywhere she looked, she was surrounded by couples, families, friends, and there she was, by herself. But she had friends, and when she ran into them, they would invite her to join them.

  Just as J.D. would have invited her to join them.

  She stopped to watch a teenage boy trying to win a prize to impress a pretty teenage girl. The prize was small—a little pink bear—but his success earned him a kiss, and not the chaste peck on the cheek she would have given at that age. The pretty girl put a lip lock on the boy that brought catcalls from their friends nearby.

  “Would you ever have dreamed of kissing a boy like that in public when you were her age?”

  Kelsey turned to find Maggie McKinney and her husband standing beside her. “I wouldn’t have dreamed of kissing a boy like that in private when I was her age,” she replied.

  “Me neither. Of course, at her age, I wasn’t even allowed to date.”

  “Which probably explains why you were married just a couple years later,” her husband added dryly. He extended his hand. “Ross McKinney.”

  “Kelsey Malone.” They shook hands, then Ross immediately reclaimed his wife’s hand.

  “Are you enjoying the carnival?” Maggie asked.

  “I just got here. Haven’t even had a chance to sample the cotton candy.”

  “It’s wonderful, but don’t take my word for it. Try the candied apples too. And the sausage with sweet peppers. And the big pretzels.”

  “And don’t forget the antacids,” Ross added. “That’s where we’re headed now—home to the antacids and to rest.”

  Maggie scowled at him. “I don’t need to rest.”

  “Right. You walk funny for the hell of it.”

  “Jeez, you break a bone or two …”

  “You broke your hip and your leg. It took you months to learn to walk again. You—”

  Maggie laid her fingers over his mouth. “All right,” she said softly. “Quit frowning like that, and I’ll go home with you. Maybe I’ll even give you a kiss that’ll make that girl look like an amateur.” Drawing her fingers back, she brushed her mouth across his. “Okay?”

  Kelsey watched as his entire expression softened. When was the last time a man had looked at her like that? More accurately, had a man ever looked at her like that? She couldn’t recall, which was a pretty good indication that the answer was no.

  The McKinneys said their farewells, and Kelsey resumed her stroll, feeling more alone than before. What had she been thinking when she’d decided to come? Carnivals were not solitary pursuits. Eating junk food, people-watching, riding the rides—somewhere was an unwritten law that those activities required two or more participants. They just couldn’t be done and enjoyed alone.

  She was about to slink back to her car and go home, when Holly McBride called her name. She held up two sodas, then gestured toward the picnic tables off to one side.

  “Are you here alone?” Kelsey asked as she sat down.

  “No, but I might as well be.” Holly skimmed her hand over hair that wouldn’t dare muss. “Tom Flynn’s in town. Ross McKinney’s lawyer?”

  Ruthless, arrogant, reasonably attractive. Kelsey remembered.

  “I had to get Ross to practically order Tom to take the afternoon off and come here with us, but ever since we got here, he’s spent the whole time working. His pager’s constantly going off, and if he’s not on his cell phone, it’s ringing, and get this. The man has his computer in the car so he can get faxes and e-mail. It’s a carnival, for heaven’s sake!”

  “Dump him,” Kelsey said flatly. “Trade him for someone with more potential.”

  “You’re right. I should. But he’s such a challenge.” Holly gave a great, dramatic sigh, then her smile turned devilish. “J.D.’s here.”

  “I saw him.”

  “Doesn’t he make a great family man? If, of course, a family’s what you’re looking for, which, of course, you are, aren’t you?”

  Kelsey fiddled with the paper she’d stripped from her straw, rolling it into a tiny ball before tossing it aside. “Tell me about Maggie and Ross.”

  “Oooh, changing the subject. How interesting.” Holly took a long drink of her soda before dutifully beginning to speak. “Maggie and Ross were poor college students when they got married. But Ross was ambitious, like Tom, and driven, like Tom, and before anyone knew it, he had his own company and was worth millions, like Tom. The millions, at least. Not the company. Apparently Tom’s quite happy working for Ross.”

  “So ruthless-arrogant-and-attractive is worth millions?” Kelsey’s voice quavered a bit at the end. “I just advised you to dump a man who’s worth millions?”

  In all seriousness, Holly leaned forward. “It’s not the money, honestly,” she said, and Kelsey believed her. “He’s just so …” Eyes wide, she shrugged, unable to finish the sentence. “Anyway, back to the McKinneys. Ross was obsessed with turning his millions into billions, and Maggie never saw him, and their marriage fell apart. She was leaving him one Christmas Eve in a blizzard, and she drove off the side of the mountain. She almost died. When she got out of rehab eleven months later, he agreed to live here with her while she got settled, and then they would divorce, and instead they fell in love all over again.”

  Romantic story. But part of Kelsey’s mind was still focused on Tom Flynn. “Millions,” she repeated. “If you decide to toss him back, could you toss him my way?”

  “Tom’s not your type,” Holly said dismissively.

  “What’s not my type about handsome, powerful, and rich? And what is my type? A poor-as-a-churchmouse preacher? A barely-making-the-mortgage teacher?”

  “Or maybe a comfortably well-off psychiatrist.”

  Kelsey groaned. “You know, I find it interesting that everyone’s been eager to introduce me to people in Bethlehem, but I haven’t yet met one other single man. Are there any, or is this some sort of matchmaking scam?”

  “There’s Dean Elliott. He’s an artist, a little moody. Does these great sculptures that absolutely fascinate me, but I don’t want to look too closely into the mind that creates them. And there’s Sebastian Knight. Nice guy, a carpenter, lives out by J.D.’s new house, but I don’t think he’s ever gotten over his wife.”

  “She died?”

  “Nah. She left him, just packed up and moved out. Didn’t even kiss him or their little girl good-bye. Let’s see, who else is single …” She tapped a nail against her lower lip while she thought, then suddenly smiled. “Well, well, look who’s wandering back. Say, you look rather familiar. Your name wouldn’t happen to be Tom, would it?”

  Kelsey twisted on the bench to get a good look at the second richest man she’d ever been close to. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but there was character in the hard lines of his face. Not necessarily good character, but character all the same.

  A certain vulnerability flashed through his eyes when he looked at Holly, as if he didn’t know what to do with her. As if he didn’t trust what she might do to him. Kelsey would have been charmed if it didn’t make her feel like the last unattached person in the whole entire world.

  Holly didn’t make introductions, but Kelsey unde
rstood. Better snatch what time she could get with the man before business called again.

  She returned Holly’s wave, then turned around to sit on the bench, the edge of the table warm against her back. She sipped her soda and watched the people passing by, occasionally responding to a greeting from someone she’d met. She was thinking once again of going home, when suddenly the bench shifted underneath her, and a tall figure slid in close.

  “Hey, darlin’. I thought I recognized those legs.”

  That morning she’d thought he was dark and wicked—and he was even more so up close. He was the sort of man who would ride a Harley. His jeans were snug enough to leave little to the imagination, and his white T-shirt was stretched to the limits across his broad chest. He was the perfect bad boy for every bad girl—or wanna-be—in the free world.

  And he didn’t even make her heart beat fast. Didn’t make her hot. Didn’t make her search her memory for the sultriest, naughtiest come-on she’d ever heard.

  Leaning forward, she made a show of looking at the few inches of her legs that showed beneath the hem of her long skirt. “Really? You recognize these legs? Describe them to me.”

  “They’ve got ankles, two of ’em. And knees. And thighs.”

  “You can see the ankles. That doesn’t count.”

  He laughed and suddenly looked neither wicked nor bad. “You are the one who went jogging past here this morning though, aren’t you? There can’t be too many women in this little burg with hair like that.”

  “I do my best to keep it under control,” she said dryly.

  “Oh, no, darlin’. You should wear it down, wild and free, so a man can appreciate it.”

  “Uh-huh.” She was about to glance away, when fifty pounds of warm, grubby kid launched itself against her.

  “Mama, Mama, there you are! We been looking for you forever! You gotted lost!”

  “Mama?” Dark and Wicked echoed.

  “No, she’s mistaken. I’m not.” Kelsey maneuvered the wriggling child back far enough to get a look at her. “Gracie. What are you doing?”