The Boss and the Baby

by Leigh Michaels

  She didn’t want to think about that.

  She thought instead about the pitifully slow progress they were making in covering the ground. “Strange,” she said, “to send an able-bodied woman inside instead of putting her to work in the search.”

  Luke didn’t look up from the leaf-strewn shadows he was inspecting. “Do you think you can cut out being jealous of your sister for one minute? You wanted her, she came, she’s where she can do the most good right now. So lay off her, all right?”

  Molly felt ashamed of herself, but not enough to admit it to him. “It’s still odd.”

  “Would you rather I’d sent your mother up to soothe him? Look, you don’t have to fuss about Megan being with Warren—it’s clearly you he’s got his eye on.”

  She thought she hadn’t heard him right. “What?”

  “You know, Molly, I intended for you to reawaken his interest in life in general, not in you specifically.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Oh, really? It hadn’t occurred to you that he’s planning wedding bells?”

  She stood stock-still in the middle of a lighter patch of woods and stared at him. Suddenly it was all too much—the fear and the cold and the tension and the dread—and she started to laugh, bursts of giggles that quickly turned to sobs that shook her body like an aspen leaf.

  In a moment, Luke was beside her, hands on her shoulders, shaking her. But the quaking only grew worse, and suddenly she couldn’t get her breath.

  Luke said something she didn’t hear and dragged her against his body, and his mouth came down on hers, punishingly fierce.

  Before she knew what she was doing, her hand had raised a red welt on his cheek, and her palm was stinging with the impact. “You just had to try it out, didn’t you?”

  Luke rubbed his cheek. “At least you’re not hysterical any more. Now can we get down to business again?”

  She was horrified to realize that for one instant Bailey had been blanked out of her mind completely. She stumbled as she walked into the ravine that marked the edge of Oakwood’s grounds.

  They had worked down the ravine quite a way when the moon came out from behind a cloud, and she caught the glint of its light against something high above her head. “The treehouse,” she said. “She was fascinated by the treehouse.”

  Luke shook his head. “I haven’t been up there since...”

  Since the night before his mother died. Don’t kid yourself, Molly—it’s not you he’s thinking about.

  He didn’t finish. “Besides, it’s locked up tight.”

  “To keep kids out But Bailey wouldn’t know that.”

  Molly waited at the base of the tree while he climbed, and when he shouted that there was no sign, she sagged against the rough bark and folded her arms across her chest as if to hug the child who wasn’t there.

  Bailey, you can’t just have vanished. Where are you?

  Luke was climbing down. She closed her eyes and listened to the rhythmic scrape of his shoes against the treehouse ladder. But between those sounds, there was something else, only once—a faint far-off cry that might have been the yelp of a dog.

  Luke leaped the last two steps and stood dusting off his hands. “I think—”

  “Listen!”

  Luke tipped his head. The wind calmed, and they both heard. “Down by the lake,” he said.

  For a moment, they stared at each other, silently acknowledging what neither had dared to say before—that the lake was a last resort. If Bailey had fallen into that inland sea, the largest freshwater lake in the world, the graveyard of thousand-foot-long ships whose wreckage had yet to be located,she might never be found. So they had looked everywhere else first. Now there was only the lake left.

  And if they found Lucky pacing the seawall, looking across the water in search of her small companion...

  I might just throw myself in, too, Molly thought.

  She jogged from time to time, but she was in no shape for this race. Her lungs were shrieking for relief when, a couple of yards behind Luke, she reached the concrete wall that protected the shore from the pounding waves.

  And saw nothing but Luke poised atop the seawall, silhouetted against the moonlit water, and the six-foot drop beyond him to where waves sloshed over the rocky lake bottom and shattered in white foam against the concrete barricade.

  Then the dog barked from out of nowhere. It seemed to Molly that Luke leaped off the wall into empty air, and she reached out to stop him an instant too late. Had his feet slipped on the wet concrete? Or had he really jumped?

  She crept closer, cautious of her balance, and saw him, waves breaking around his knees as he sloshed toward a dark, wet lump huddled against the seawall twenty feet down the shore. She strained to see and recognized Lucky leaning against the concrete with her feet in the water, her claws scrabbling on the rocky bottom. And pressed between the dog’s body and the wall, just above the water, was a sopping, bedraggled bundle.

  “Good dog,” Luke said, and reached over Lucky to drag Bailey into his arms.

  Molly scrambled along the wall till she was directly above them and waited an eternity until he boosted his burden to her. “She’s breathing,” he said.

  Bailey whimpered, “I want Mommy.”

  Hot tears streamed down Molly’s face. “Mommy’s here, love. Luke, she’s so cold!”

  “Of course she’s cold. She’s soaked. Get her clothes off.”

  Had he lost his mind? “What do you mean, off?” She stared at him in horror, then remembered his medical training and began to fumble with Bailey’s dripping sweatshirt.

  “I mean, strip her.” He heaved the dog out of the water and pulled himself onto the wall. “The wind hitting her wet clothes is sucking the heat straight out of her body.” He tore off his windbreaker, pulled his sweater over his head and put the jacket on.

  Molly fought to get Bailey out of her sodden jeans. The moment the child was free, she reached for his sweater, but Luke scooped Bailey against his bare chest, draped his sweater across her back like a blanket and folded the windbreaker around both of them. “Body heat,” he said. “Hurry.”

  “Mommy,” Bailey said. It was a hopeless, helpless little murmur that nearly broke Molly’s heart.

  She didn’t know how she managed to stay even with Luke’s longer stride, even burdened as he was. Lucky bounded toward the house ahead of them, barking wildly.

  “Too bad she couldn’t do that before,” Luke said. “But she was using all her strength to keep them both from going into the drink.”

  A siren shut off abruptly in the driveway as they came around the corner of the house. Why had it taken so long for the police to arrive, Molly wondered. Or was her mind fooling her again? Had they been out searching for only a few minutes, even though it felt like years?

  Luke waved down a patrolman, and within a minute they were in a police car, headed for the hospital. Bailey was still snuggled close against Luke’s body, and Molly was using the sleeve of her wool jacket to dry the child’s straggly hair.

  “My badge,” Bailey murmured. “I want...badge.”

  Molly thought that weak little voice was the most beautiful sound in the world. “Later, honey. We’ll get it for you later.”

  The emergency room crew shut the door of the treatment room in Molly’s face. Very politely, of course, and with the best of explanations. She’d be in the way while they got Bailey stabilized and warm once more. And then she’d need X rays, to make sure she hadn’t gotten water in her lungs. But after that... Just as soon as Molly could be with her daughter, they’d come and get her.

  Luke coaxed her to a quiet corner of the waiting room, but Molly couldn’t sit still. “She’ll be okay, won’t she?”

  “Sure,” he said. Then, as if he recognized how very unconvincing he’d sounded, he went on. “She was conscious when I pulled her out—that’s a good sign. The dog’s body broke the force of the waves and the wind, and because they were huddled together they didn’
t lose heat quite as quickly.”

  She looked at him, drew a deep, shaky breath and relaxed a tiny bit. “What about Lucky?”

  “She looked all right. Maybe some frostbite on her paws. I don’t know. Depends on how long they were in the water, I suppose. Watkins will make sure the dog’s taken care of.”

  “I hope he makes sure she gets a couple of steaks. No, I don’t—I want to do that myself, and feed them to her bite by bite.” She tried to wipe the tears away.

  “Molly.” He was staring at his shoes and the puddle of lake water that had dripped from his jeans, and his voice was heavy. “That first day you brought her to Oakwood, I told Bailey I’d take her down to the lake. And I didn’t do it. I never got around to it—”

  “And you think that’s why she went, so you’re blaming yourself? Don’t, Luke.”

  “You don’t hold it against me?”

  Molly shook her head. “I could just as easily blame my father. He’s the one who taught her to love the lake. It’s not your fault, Luke, any more than it’s his.”

  He looked at her for a long moment. “Thanks, Molly.” He reached out to her, and his hand closed slowly around hers. Molly looked at their linked fingers, his tanned, hers much paler.

  She had cared about him once—as a girl cares. And she knew he’d been right, all those years ago, that what she felt was far closer to infatuation than to love When she had first come back to Duluth, she’d thought she was indifferent to him. She’d intended to do her job, live her life and pay no heed to Lucas Hudson.

  But now... Now she felt confused.

  She’d seen him in a different light tonight, that was certain. She’d known that Bailey thought he was pretty neat, for Bailey had told her. But Luke had been harder to read until tonight. He’d been stunned by the child’s disappearance and determined to find her at any cost to himself—traits that would win him a place in any mother’s heart.

  She had to admit that she still got a lump in her throat whenever she closed her eyes and pictured the way he’d flung himself off the seawall, heedless of anything except the need to get Bailey out of the lake.

  Bailey. That, of course, was the common thread. He’d fallen in love with her little girl—which wasn’t much of a surprise. That sparkling child could walk off with almost anybody’s heart—and it was clear she’d added Luke’s to her collection.

  What in the hell were you thinking of to let her wander on her own? he’d said in that first stunned moment when Molly had told him Bailey was gone. And he’d kissed her tonight not out of any fondness—she could never forget the bruising force of that kiss—but to shock her out of hysteria and back to the business of finding Bailey.

  Even when he hadn’t been a hundred percent focused on the child, he’d had nothing flattering to say to Molly. Do you think you can cut out being jealous of your sister for one minute? he’d asked. And that crack he’d made about Warren asking her to marry him... Luke obviously hadn’t any personal feelings on the matter, except that he’d clearly thought his father had lost his mind.

  Bailey was a different matter. It was Bailey who kept him sitting here, even though he was dripping and chilled, waiting to be certain she was all right. It was Bailey who occupied his mind. Bailey...

  Ever so slowly, she pulled her hand away from his. Or had he purposely loosened his hold and let her slip away?

  Luke sat up a little straighter. “So,” he said. He was trying very hard, she thought, to sound completely normal. “As long as we’ve got time to kill, why don’t you tell me how you got the bruise? If it wasn’t the ex, who punched you in the face? And why wouldn’t you tell me what happened?”

  “You expected me to explain?” Molly countered. “It was a job interview. Questions about personal business have no place in—”

  Luke snorted. “I suppose you’re going to file sexual harassment charges for the way I treated your hysteria tonight?”

  “Of course not. Assault would be more like it.”

  “That’s a relief. And by the way, you haven’t answered the question this time, either. Who punched you?”

  A nurse—not the one who’d asked Molly to wait outside —came into the waiting room. “Are you Bailey’s parents? You can come in now.”

  Molly watched the shadow settle across Luke’s face, and the heaviness that had lain across her heart for more years than she wanted to remember translated itself into a new and different sort of pain.

  She stood up and very deliberately stretched out her hand to him.

  A trace of a frown flickered across his face. Then he folded his fingers around hers and walked beside her to a cubicle.

  Just outside the half-closed door, a young man was scribbling on a chart. He looked up and said, “That’s one fortunate kid, you know. We want to keep an eye on her for another few hours—keep a warm IV running, that sort of thing. But if she doesn’t have any further problems you’ll be able to take her home yet tonight.”

  Molly didn’t realize till then she’d been holding her breath.

  Perched high atop a hospital bed, propped with a stack of pillows, Bailey sat with a tray table arranged across her lap and a mug in her tiny hands. She looked like a doll among the multitude of blankets folded around her.

  The moment she saw Molly, Bailey held out her arm to display the IV drip. “Mommy, they stuck a needle in me.” She was obviously incensed. “And it’s still there.”

  Luke chuckled. “You go right ahead and complain, princess.”

  She turned her big brown eyes to him. “Will you make them take it out, Luke?”

  “Later. They’re pretty busy right now, so we’ll have to wait our turn again.” He laid a hand on her shoulder.

  Was it only her imagination, Molly wondered, or were his fingers trembling? She moved to the other side of the bed and leaned on the railing. “What are you drinking, Bailey?”

  “Hot chocolate.” The child looked a little guilty. “I forgot about having to ask you first.”

  “It’s all right. I’m sure the doctor knows what he’s doing.” Molly pushed a lock of dark hair from the child’s forehead. Her hair was dry but it felt sticky from the lake water.

  Bailey pushed the cup away. “Did you bring my badge?”

  Molly had almost forgotten. “No, honey. But it’ll be waiting for us. Was it in your pocket?” She’d left the sodden clothes on the seawall, but there’d be plenty of time to get them later.

  Bailey shook her head. “It went down in the lake. It blew away and went out in the water, so I climbed down off the wall like I do off the jungle gym at the park. It wasn’t very far.”

  Molly’s heart was quaking. A six-foot wall, and Bailey had simply hung by her hands and dropped off it?

  “But I couldn’t reach it. And the wall was too slick so I couldn’t climb back up, and Lucky jumped down and splashed me and got me all wet. And then I got cold.” She yawned.

  “But now you’re warm again.” Molly tried to smile.

  “The badge,” Luke said. “The damned badge. I’m sorry, Molly. You didn’t want her to have it in the first place.”

  “Put a plug in it, Luke, will you? No one could have anticipated that she’d go in the lake...” Molly couldn’t keep her voice from shaking.

  Luke reached across the bed to squeeze her hand.

  Bailey’s second yawn was even bigger, and she let her head drop on the pillow. “I still like the lake, even if it was all wet and nasty.”

  They stood there till she was asleep. “That’s good,” Luke said. “That she still likes the lake, I mean. She could have been so traumatized that she’d never go near water again.”

  Molly nodded and let her head sink down to rest on the chrome rail of Bailey’s bed.

  “You’re exhausted,” Luke said.

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “Of course not. But surely I can find you a chair.” But he didn’t step away from the bed. “Molly,” he said quietly. “I know you probably didn’t even hear what the nur
se was saying out there—about parents, plural. But thanks for letting me come in. For letting them think I’m her father.”

  She looked at him, and at their clasped hands, and then at the face of her sleeping daughter. “Why not?” she said. “After all...it’s true.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FROM out in the hallway Molly could hear the clinking of stainless steel instruments as a cart was wheeled by. Above her head, one of the fluorescent lights hummed in a off-key pitch that grated on her nerves. But there was no other sound.

  She watched her daughter’s face and stroked the child’s hair. Her fingertips, she noted with detached interest, weren’t shaking at all. That was just as well, for now that she’d made her declaration it was too late to worry.

  But she couldn’t deny that the longer the silence lasted the more apprehension oozed through her veins until finally she could bear it no longer. Slowly, she raised her head until her gaze met Luke’s.

  If she’d suddenly sprouted horns, he couldn’t have looked more flabbergasted. Almost dazed, she thought. As if he was staring straight through her.

  Then, as she watched, his gaze focused on her face. “You’ve snapped,” he said firmly. “It’s been a terrible few hours, and now that the stress is finally off—”

  Of course, she hadn’t really expected anything else. Nevertheless, Molly’s shoulders drooped as the weight of fatigue settled onto them once more. But this exhaustion wasn’t from the evening’s strain. it was a tiredness born years ago. “Fine,” she said. “I’ve snapped. Call the men in the little white coats.”

  “You’re not...” He paused. “You haven’t mistaken me for someone else?”

  “Like who? Santa Claus? Come off it, Luke. I’m not having hallucinations.”

  He relaxed. She watched the taut muscles of his face ease. “Well, in that case... This is actually pretty funny, Molly. Haven’t you overlooked one minor detail?”

  “You mean the fact that we never quite made love?”

  “Well, it does seem—”

  “The key word, of course, is quite. Remember, Luke? You said yourself that another minute and it would have been too late. Well, it was too late. Making love is a process—and even though we didn’t finish, we’d certainly started.”