Morgan followed her into the dining room and watched as she strapped her daughter into a child’s seat before grabbing a sipper cup and setting it in front of her daughter. “Yes, your mom has adopted me.”
Betty, who was coming in with the chicken, nodded. “I sure did. He’s my local son, since both of you kids never come visit your mama.”
Morgan went over and took the platter from her. “Let me get that, Betty.”
“Thanks, Morgan.” She turned to go into the kitchen, talking over her shoulder. “Sit down, get aquainted. I’ll be right back.”
Morgan hesitated then nodded. Looking at Rachel, he said, “Very self-reliant, isn’t she?”
Rachel chuckled. “Understatement.” She got up, got the napkins and silverware and finished setting the table.
“You know sign language well.”
Rachel glanced at him in surprise. “My daughter is hearing impaired,” she replied simply.
“How much does she understand?” he queried.
Rachel frowned. “Enough.”
He heard it in her voice. Back off. So he did, turning his attention to Lindsay instead.
She was sipping, staring at him over the rim as she drank her juice.
Morgan grinned at her and signed, “Hi. I’m Morgan. You like juice?”
The little girl stared at him suspiciously over the cup before she tossed it at him and signed, “Share!”
Morgan caught it in midair. It was pure luck. He hadn’t expected her to throw her cup at him.
“Lindsay!” Rachel said and hurried toward her daughter.
Morgan looked at Lindsay.
She giggled.
He tried to cover a smile. “Thank you,” he signed, and acted as if he were taking a drink before handing it back to her.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan—”
“Just Morgan.”
“Okay, just Morgan,” Rachel said, exasperated. “Will you stop grinning at her? She’s going to think it’s okay to throw her cup at you all the time.”
“She was only sharing,” he said innocently.
Rachel, who’d had her back turned during the entire incident, paused and looked from one to the other. “She normally doesn’t talk to strangers.”
“She knows me,” he said, signing with his words.
Rachel’s jaw dropped. “You know sign language?”
“Yes, Rachel, I do. We were talking while you were digging for the coasters. I asked her if she liked her juice, and she shared it with me. I take that to mean either she likes me and decided to be my friend or she hates her juice.”
Rachel studied him again before her gaze went to her daughter, who was sipping her juice. Then she laughed. “I guess she decided you’re a friend.”
Betty chose that moment to come in with bread and vegetables. “Rachel, honey, will you get the salad and pitcher for me?”
“I can do that, Betty,” Morgan said, but Rachel shook her head.
“I’ll get it. I have to get her bib anyway.”
She left and Morgan took the dishes from Betty and set them on the table.
“There we go, my baby. I made corn for you tonight. And carrots. Your favorite,” Betty said to her granddaughter.
Lindsay smiled beatifically at her grandmother and then yelled loudly. He had to give Betty credit. For not being around the child much, she did well not to flinch when Lindsay shouted her pleasure.
Rachel returned and set the salad and pitcher on the table before slipping the bib on. When she sat down, Betty turned to Morgan. “Will you say the prayer, dear?”
Morgan didn’t miss the uncomfortable shift Rachel made. He bowed his head. “Heavenly Father, thank You for the food You’ve blessed us with and thank You for the company and the special precious gift You gave us in Lindsay. Bless this food, in Jesus’s name, amen.”
When he opened his eyes, Rachel was staring at him blankly. He returned the stare with one of warmth. Her gaze wobbled with tenderness and surprise before she glanced away. “Lindsay is certainly my precious gift,” she said, then proceeded to dish up a plate of food for her child.
After handing Lindsay her silverware, Rachel cut her daughter’s chicken and broke up the bread, then started filling her own plate.
Morgan filled his quietly. “I found a new fishing hole, Betty.”
“Oh? Where this time?”
Morgan passed Betty the platter of meat as he said, “Outside of town. The mile road. You go down it and it’s off west about a mile.”
“The old Henderson place. They had a creek running back there.”
“I’m planning to go soon. Joe Pierceson told me about it.”
“He’d know. That man loves to fish.”
“Have you ever fished, Rachel?” Morgan asked politely before taking a bite of chicken.
Startled, she glanced from her daughter, her mouth filled with food. She swallowed, took a sip of tea then replied, “I haven’t been in four, maybe five years.” Her gaze unfocused briefly. “I used to go with Dad all the time before I went off….”
She glowed with good memories. Morgan was enchanted as he watched her.
“I remember some of the things you brought home, young lady, and it wasn’t just fish. Turtles, frogs, tadpoles and even a snake. Land sakes, I’m glad that thing wasn’t poisonous,” Betty said.
Rachel grinned at her mother. “Daddy was, too.”
Both burst out laughing, and Betty turned to Morgan to explain. “She was upset because she hadn’t caught anything and her brother had. So she was walking back to the car and found this snake. A king snake, mind you, and she stuffed it into her plastic wading pants, planning to sneak it into the room and put it in her brother’s bed.”
“And? Did you do it?” He grinned at Rachel, whose cheeks turned pink in response.
“Go on, tell him what happened, Rachel.”
“Mother.” Rachel drawled the word in exasperation. “The snake got out of the trousers. Just as Daddy was pulling into the driveway, he felt something inching up the leg of his pants and panicked.”
“Oh, no.” Morgan couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “Did the poor man have a heart attack?”
“Almost,” Betty said. “He went right through the garage door trying to shake the thing off of his leg.”
“And I got grounded for a week.”
“That’s pretty mild,” Morgan replied, still laughing.
“Yeah. Well, I think Dad and Mom were so happy that the snake wasn’t poisonous that I got off lightly.”
Betty shook her head and took another bite.
Rachel grinned at her mother. “Well, Mom? You gonna tell me the truth why?”
“I have no idea why you got off so easily, dear. You’re probably right. It was simply shock and relief.”
Rachel chuckled again before turning to her meal. That set the tone for supper. Silly stories about her childhood. Dinner ended much too soon, as far as Morgan was concerned, but Betty wasn’t about to let him leave yet. “You two go into the living room with Lindsay. I’ll clear this and then bring in hot tea.”
Rachel, who was cleaning Lindsay, glanced at him, then at her mom. “Okay.”
Morgan nevertheless gathered his and Rachel’s plates and carried them into the kitchen. When he returned, Lindsay was clean and getting out of her chair.
“So, Rachel, where do you work?” he asked, heading into the living room.
“Temporarily at City Hall. I’m reworking their records. And—watch out!”
Thump. Two little arms were wrapped around his legs. Morgan struggled to keep from landing face first on the floor. “Aha! I’ve been attacked,” he said, peeling her arms away and lifting her. “Was it you?”
Lindsay patted his cheek and bounced in his arm. “Paaee,” she said, her hand on his cheek.
“Paaee?”
“That means play. Here, I’ll take her. I’m really sorry—”
“We’re fine,” he said to Rachel and moved to the sofa to sit down. H
e didn’t miss how Rachel nervously followed him.
“What do you like to play, little one?” he asked.
Lindsay grinned and moved her hand to his lips.
He repeated the question.
She giggled and then stroked his cheek again.
Poor Rachel was turning all shades of red. He ignored her and continued to concentrate on Lindsay, thinking it best if he didn’t pay attention to her embarrassment over her daughter. The only way Rachel would see Lindsay wasn’t irritating him was to watch them together.
He reached up and put Lindsay’s hand close to his mouth. “Morgan. Morgan,” he said. Lifting his hand from hers, he signed, “My name. Morgan.”
“Oh gan.”
Morgan grinned. “Yes. Now what do you like to play? Oh, I bet I know….”
And Morgan proceeded to drop onto the floor next to the blocks and build an entire city with her for the next fifteen minutes.
Betty came in and grinned. “You’re so good with kids. Lindsay has taken a liking to you. Now, Rachel, why don’t you pour the tea.”
“Okay, Mom.” Rachel poured three cups, silently frustrated with her mother that she insisted on keeping this man around. She didn’t know him, and he was playing with her daughter.
“I think little one here is getting tired,” Morgan whispered.
Rachel glanced over and flushed anew. Lindsay had crawled onto him and was sprawled out, her eyes closed. “I’m sorry,” Rachel began.
“Don’t be.” Morgan’s eyes met hers. The deep tones of his voice went right through her. “I can’t tell you when I’ve had this much fun. It’s been a long time.”
Rachel shifted, trying not to notice how good he looked holding her daughter. She stood and went over to him. “I should get her to bed.”
Gently, she slipped her hands under her daughter and lifted the girl to her shoulder. Lindsay mumbled something and zonked right back out.
Morgan stood. “As much as I’d like tea, Betty, I really have to be up early. I should be going, too.”
“Of course, Morgan. Let me take her, Rachel, and you walk our guest to the door.”
Sharply, Rachel looked at her mother. Matchmaking?
She had to wonder. This man was attractive. Her mother didn’t like it that she was alone with a child to raise. Rachel would have to talk to her about this later. “Very well.” Handing her child to her mother, Rachel turned and offered Morgan a smile.
He wasn’t bad. She just wasn’t used to sharing her child with anyone. Not after everything that had happened. She was scared. Things happened. She didn’t want to lose Lindsay or hear any more false reports, on her, or true reports for that matter. She didn’t want her daughter exposed to any more pain or lies, or to get her hopes up only to have them dashed. She wanted to protect her daughter from the world. And this man was part of that world.
Still, he had been wonderful with Lindsay. If only Lindsay’s father had been like that. “It was nice meeting you, Morgan.”
Morgan headed toward the door, his long-legged stride taking him gracefully across the room. “I really enjoyed tonight.” He pulled open the door and paused, then turned and pierced her with his gaze. “I enjoyed it a lot, Rachel.”
Rachel’s mouth went dry. “I…yes,” she stuttered, and nodded.
“Maybe we’ll see each other in church.”
The mood was shattered that easily. “I’m not sure. It takes time to get Lindsay ready, and we like to sleep in on Sunday…”
“Oh. I had thought you’d want to take her simply for the interaction with the other children.”
“She gets interaction,” Rachel argued.
“Ah,” Morgan said softly, a smile touching his lips. “But does she get to learn the series of songs the teacher is teaching the children? All of them in sign language?”
“Really?” Rachel asked, excitement burgeoning to life.
Morgan shrugged. “She majored in languages and ministers to the deaf on Saturdays. I thought Lindsay would probably love that.”
“She probably would.”
Rachel suddenly realized she’d been tricked. Scowling at Morgan, she said, “I only want what’s best for my daughter. So if you do see me there, it’s because of her.”
Morgan’s smile turned tender. “I understand, Rachel.” He reached out and took her hand, but instead of shaking it, to her utter disbelief, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it lightly. His gaze lifted to hers. “I really do.” She stared, watching him walk down the stairs and to his car. And for some reason, she really believed that he did understand. She wasn’t sure why, but it was in his eyes. The truth. He really did know what she was going through.
Gripping the door, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, God really did take a personal interest, after all.
Chapter Five
She should have known.
He was a doctor.
A pediatrician.
Of all the low-down tricks. She was striding across the green, but she didn’t make it to her destination, which was the church day care and her mother. Oh, no. She found someone else to take her frustration out on.
Smiling with grim anticipation, she steered toward the left and the man sitting at a small table under a tree. “Ah, good morning, Morgan,” she said lightly.
His features changed and lit with a welcoming smile. “Not morning really. I’m on an afternoon lunch break.” Standing, he smiled, and that smile nearly melted Rachel’s anger.
Nearly.
“How are you today? Will you join me?”
So smooth and gentlemanly. It was that kiss on the hand last night that distracted her, made her look at the way his hand waved her to a seat. She found herself moving forward to do just that—when she suddenly jumped back.
“Rachel?” he asked, confused.
“Don’t you take that tone with me. I found out.” She dropped that bombshell and waited to see him flinch or at least flush guiltily.
He did none of these. He continued to stare at her, looking curious as well as confused. “Found out what? I’m sorry, Rachel, but I don’t understand. Please, take a seat. We can talk.”
Rachel shook her head, her agitation obvious as she clasped her hands. “Mom put you up to it, didn’t she? I just know she did. That’s Mom.”
Concern replaced his confusion, and he stepped forward.
She raised a hand to halt him. “No. Just tell me the truth.” Silly, but she was near tears. “She did, didn’t she?”
“Rachel, I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” Morgan said, and she could tell he meant for her to believe that.
“But…you’re a doctor. Mom wouldn’t have just invited you over.”
“You didn’t know I was a doctor?” Morgan asked, surprise spreading across his features. “Oh, Rachel,” he whispered, and despite the fact she tried to put up a hand again, he ignored it and pulled her into a gentle embrace. “I just thought your mom had told you something about me since I was a guest there so much.”
The strong arms felt nice, encouraging her to lean against him. The chest was wide enough to hold her as she leaned against him. The warm, deep voice invited her to trust him. It was the last that, after only a moment of comfort, made her push back.
“She didn’t tell me,” Rachel whispered. “You were there to examine my daughter, weren’t you?”
He hesitated.
“Don’t lie to me,” she said.
With a nod, he said, “Your mother wanted me to see Lindsay, but just friend to friend. She knows you didn’t want her to go into an office and see a doctor officially.”
“She doesn’t need a doctor,” Rachel argued. “She’s fine. We’re fine. We’re both fine.”
Lifting his hands, he said gently, “It’s okay, Rachel. I wasn’t there to play inquisitor. Believe it or not, I do go over to your mom’s house two or three times a week. Sometimes I bring dinner, and sometimes she fixes it.”
“And you sure jumped on it when she asked you to l
ook at my daughter,” she said bitterly, feeling raw with betrayal.
“It’s not like that. Your mom is worried about both you and your daughter. She loves you, Rachel, and wanted to help. Please don’t be angry at her.”
Rachel’s shoulders slumped. “I’m not. I’m just—hurt,” she finally whispered. And scared, though she didn’t add that aloud. She didn’t want anyone around her daughter. Lindsay was vulnerable. Rachel was, too. She couldn’t take hearing someone else tell her that her daughter was imperfect and should be shut away somewhere.
“Rachel, listen,” he began, but the beeper on his belt went off. Looking down, he sighed. “That’s the hospital. I have to take the call. Please, wait on this and think about it. Allow your hurt to ease before you say anything else. We’ll talk later. Okay?”
Rachel shrugged. She didn’t care what he said. How could her mother have confided in him when she knew Rachel didn’t want Lindsay exposed to another doctor?
“Later,” he reiterated and then jogged across the lawn toward one of the telephones.
Miserable, Rachel continued across the green to the church, planning to talk to her mother. She hurried up the stairs and into the building.
Before she got very far, Miss Emma stopped her. “Miss White! Oh, Miss White!”
She came bustling toward her, her face wreathed in smiles. “I’m so glad I found you. Can you come in the office a moment? I was filing some church papers and I found some of Lindsay’s papers in there. You can take them to your mom for me, if you will.”
Rachel sighed at getting waylaid but nodded. “Of course.”
Rachel had to admit this woman was certainly a character. She waved her hands and sighed dramatically. “I just don’t know how all this paperwork ended up in my office. Papers. Such a mess. Nevertheless, they’re much better than putting all that information in those little boxes. I don’t trust them. The pastor keeps saying he wants to put one in my office but I tell him, I say, Pastor, you just can’t trust them. You put the information in, but what happens if it gets lost in there or what happens if you need it a year later. How do you know what you typed is still in there and didn’t get eaten up?”
What The Doctor Ordered Page 3