The Mommy Plan

by Susan Gable

  But could they have more? Could she be a real mother to Molly? Or would the pressure of dealing with a child with Molly’s medical history eventually send her bolting?

  “Are you mad at me?” Her fingers glided along his jawline.

  “No, I’m not mad at you.” He turned his head, planted a kiss on her palm. “But maybe we need to talk about a few things.” He looked at her. “Rachel, do you remember at the restaurant? I asked what was the most pleasurable thing you could imagine me doing to you?”

  She nodded. “I sure do.”

  “Can you picture it again?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She shut her eyes, and her smile turned to pure sensuality as she took his reawakening erection in her hand.

  He leaned closer to her ear, did his best to pitch his voice in a soothing tone. Not easy, considering all he wanted to do was groan. “Good. I want to talk to you about what happened at the hospital that night.”

  She stilled.

  “It’s just like the lasagna, Rachel. It’s a conditioned response, that’s all. One we can overcome together. It might not be easy…” His words trailed as she released him and rolled over onto her back. “Rachel? Please look at me.”

  She turned her head.

  “Rachel, I’m in love with you.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “I need to know that you’re willing to work on this hospital phobia.”

  “Oh, James. I…I’m afraid.”

  “Of what, exactly?”

  She looked away from him. “Of…loving you. And Molly.” Her voice rasped, thick with emotion. “And…I do love you. Both of you. But I’m also afraid of how I feel when you just say the word hospital.”

  “And how do you feel?”

  She took a deep breath. Tremors rocked along her skin where she lay pressed against him. “My heart pounds and my palms get all sweaty. I’m not sure if I’m hot or cold.”

  “It’s just anxiety, sweetie. We can get through it.” Her expression seemed doubtful. “Let me show you.” He grinned. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “O-okay. I’ll try.”

  “That’s all I ask.” He lowered his head and nuzzled her neck, trailing his fingers along her thigh. “Hospital,” he murmured softly as he stroked her.

  She sighed—an encouraging sound that was more pleasure than distress. “Just tell me you don’t use this method with your patients.”

  He laughed. “Hell, no. For one thing, I’d like to keep my license.”

  “And for another?” She gasped as he continued to tease her.

  “I only want to be this way with you.” He smiled. Rachel had more strength than she realized. Given time, she could overcome all her fears.

  He’d found that very, very special lady he’d told Molly would be so hard to come by. And maybe a second chance at love and a future, too.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE FOLLOWING FRIDAY NIGHT found Rachel snuggled into the recliner portion of James’s blue sectional sofa, Molly cuddled up against her as they watched a DVD of a recent movie. James was in his office, taking a phone call from a patient. A large bowl of popcorn was balanced on Rachel’s lap. Molly giggled as they both reached into it at the same time and bumped hands.

  “Sorry,” the little girl said. “Looks like I’m still bumping into you.”

  Rachel chuckled. “Guess so. But that’s okay. I’ll always be glad to have you bump into me.”

  Molly snuggled closer, rested her head on Rachel’s shoulder.

  God, it felt so right. Guiltily she realized she hadn’t even thought of Daniel since she’d arrived at James’s restored Victorian house for her weekend stay.

  The closing credits of the film rolled across the wide-screen TV and music blared from James’s surround-sound stereo system.

  Molly sighed. “I love that story.” She wiggled out of the recliner to grab the remote from the glass-and-oak coffee table. Silence replaced the theme song. “Hey, you wanna see more pictures?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Rachel said. Anything to distract herself from thinking about whether or not this scene—she, James and Molly together—was right, or a big mistake on Rachel’s part.

  Molly’s floppy-eared bunny slippers scuffed against the tan carpet as she crossed to the bookcases behind the sofa.

  Rachel moved the plastic bowl from her lap to the table. Molly plopped a photo album in its place on Rachel’s lap. “Here.” She climbed back into the recliner and snuggled close again. “My gram made this for me.” She opened to the first page, and Rachel caught her breath.

  “This is me when I was just born.”

  A tiny infant lay in an isolette, wires and tubes connected to the fragile-looking body. Rachel tried to ignore the sudden change in the living room’s temperature.

  “I had my first surgery the next day.” Molly flipped the page. “Here’s Dad holding me a few days after that.”

  A much-younger James, clad in a yellow protective gown, showed off his daughter for the camera. Tiffany was nowhere to be seen. Although, maybe she’d been the one taking the pictures. Rachel would give the woman the benefit of the doubt. For the first time, she realized exactly how difficult those early years with Molly must have been.

  And she understood why, when he’d confessed his love to her, his first concern had been her hospital phobia.

  Molly quickly skimmed through a bunch of pages. “Here’s me and Cherish, when we were both waiting for our new hearts.”

  Rachel’s chest tightened at the sight of the two girls she’d known only as mischievous, active kids looking pale and exhausted, wearing hospital pj’s in identical beds. Her throat constricted, and she said a silent prayer that neither girl ever looked like that again.

  “Molly?” James appeared in the archway that led to the foyer.

  “Yeah, Dad?”

  “Time for bed. Go upstairs and brush your teeth. I’ll be up in a few minutes to tuck you in.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “Yes, you have to. Now, scoot.”

  “Okay.” She slid off the sofa, leaving an empty cold spot along Rachel’s side.

  “Miss Rachel?”

  Rachel looked up from the album to the child’s face. A healthy, happy face, a far cry from the one in the photo.

  Rachel smiled. Somewhere there was another child whose face now looked healthy because she had agreed to donate her son’s heart.

  Finally, that thought offered her some comfort. “What, Molly?”

  “Will you come up with Dad and help tuck me in?”

  She looked over at James, who nodded his approval. “Sure I will, honey.”

  “Okay, tiger, enough stalling. Move it.”

  “I’m going.” Molly skipped from the room James ruffled her hair as she passed him, then he came and sank down on to the sofa next to Rachel. “Sorry about being gone so long, but it’s my weekend on-call.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “What are you reading?” He glanced at the book. “Oh.” He edged closer to her, replacing the warmth from his daughter with his own, helping to ward off the chill. “You do realize that’s a picture of my kid in the hospital, right?”

  The pages slapped together as she closed the album. “You just had to point that part out, didn’t you?” She shivered.

  “Yep. It’s a good step, Rachel. I’m proud of you.” He pressed his lips to her cheek.

  Okay, so she wouldn’t tell him her stomach was doing the Macarena dance. They’d move forward one small step at a time.

  THEY’D PLANNED TO SPEND a quiet day at home. But James had been called away to a patient crisis. Rachel was happy that he’d been comfortable leaving Molly in her care.

  Molly drew back the long curtain from the window and looked out. “See that park across the street?”

  Rachel nodded.

  “I used to sit here a lot, watching the kids play out there, and wishing I could play with them.”

  “But you couldn’t because…they had germs?” Rachel t
ickled the bottom of Molly’s foot, and the little girl giggled.

  “No, because I was too tired. Daddy or Grandpa used to carry me up the stairs a lot. Now look at me.” She grinned at Rachel. “I had fun at your house last week.” Her pigtails bounced as she sat back up abruptly. “I wish I had known Daniel. I’ll bet he was fun, like you.”

  Memories of her little boy playing cars on the living room rug played out in Rachel’s mind. She pressed her lips together, then realized Molly was waiting for an answer. “Yeah. We had good times together.”

  “Don’t be sad, Miss Rachel.” Molly scrambled off the window seat and crossed over to her desk. The middle drawer screeched in protest as she yanked it out and pulled something from the depths. “I made you something.”

  Rachel swung her legs off the side of the bench. “What’s that, sweetie?”

  Molly dropped her gaze to the floor. “This.” She pulled her hands from behind her back and held the offering out to Rachel. “It’s like the ones we made at camp. Only I made this one specially for you.”

  “Thank you.” Rachel accepted the construction paper firefly. The body was shaped from Molly’s foot, and the wings were her hands, with the fingers in pairs and the thumbs tucked underneath. Rachel had come up with the idea at camp after the gift of fireflies from this sweet child.

  “Read what I wrote on it.”

  The corny little poem was Rachel’s other part of the project, and it included an empty space for the child to write down a wish. In very neat printing, Molly had written: I wish for Miss Rachel to be my new mom.

  Hopeful hazel eyes stared at her.

  “Oh, Molly. That’s so sweet.” She set the project on the cushion beside her and opened her arms. Molly moved into them as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Rachel held her close, felt the reassuring thump of Molly’s heart beating against her chest.

  “We could be a real family,” the little girl said softly. “You wouldn’t be alone anymore.”

  “Honey, I think you might be jumping the gun a little. Your dad and I haven’t known each other for all that long—”

  Molly backed from her embrace. “So? Nolan said he knew he was going to marry Cherish’s mom from the first time they met. You love my dad, right?”

  “I care very much about him, yes.”

  “And me?” The lower lip on the freckled face quivered.

  “Yes, definitely you!” Rachel gathered the uncertain child back into her arms. “You, Molly McClain, are an amazing kid, and very easy to love.”

  “My mom didn’t think so.”

  The pain in the child’s voice tore into Rachel’s heart. It wouldn’t be right to vocalize the uncharitable thoughts she was having about Molly’s mother, so she just said, “Well, I do.”

  Laughter from the children on the playground across the street entered through the partially opened window. Molly’s warm body pressed tightly against hers, and Rachel realized how very right it felt.

  Could she love James and Molly and live in each moment with them, not worrying about the future, but enjoying the present?

  A loud buzzing noise came from downstairs.

  “I’ll bet that’s our pizza.” Rachel reluctantly let go of Molly. “Shall we go see?”

  “You go ahead. I’ll be right there.” She plopped down into the chair in front of the desk and offered Rachel an enormous grin, one that flashed the partially showing new tooth on the side. “I just remembered, I have to e-mail Cherish about something.”

  “Okay, but don’t be long.”

  At the bottom of the stairs, Rachel retrieved her purse from beneath the small phone table as the doorbell rang again. “I’m coming,” she yelled. After paying the teenage delivery boy, Rachel turned into the house, shutting the door with a backward bump from her foot. “Molly! Pepperoni pizza’s here!”

  “Hey, Miss Rachel! Watch this!” At the top of the stairs, the girl threw one leg over the highly polished oak banister.

  “No! That’s not a good idea. I’m sure your father wouldn’t approve.” Rachel headed for the bottom of the stairs, pizza box balanced in her arms, purse slung over her shoulder.

  Molly stuck out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout. “But you’re much more fun than he is.” And she climbed onto the railing. With a shriek of laughter, she flew down the top half. As she came to the curved section near the landing, she wobbled.

  Rachel’s heart stopped.

  So did the entire universe.

  Except for Molly.

  In painfully slow motion—something Rachel thought only happened in bad movies—Molly went over the railing.

  Rachel dropped the pizza. Arms outstretched, she dashed toward the falling child. Like a rag doll, Molly bounced off the phone table. She hit the parquet wooden floor with an ominous, hollow thud.

  “Molly!” Rachel fell to her knees beside the little girl. Checked for breathing and a pulse. Blessedly found them. “Molly? Do you hear me?”

  A low moan was the only response.

  Rachel dragged the phone to her side by yanking on the cord. “Don’t move, honey. I’m getting help.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE CHATTER OF TOO MANY people and the squeal from radios bore down on Rachel. Red and blue lights from the emergency vehicles outside strobed through the windows. The tightness in her chest wouldn’t let go, and breathing was difficult. She tried to process the fireman’s questions and at the same time look around him to see what they were doing to Molly. Paramedics leaned over the small form still on the floor. “You told them about her heart, right?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. They’re keeping a close eye on her, don’t you worry. Now, do you have another number where we could try to reach her father?”

  She shook her throbbing head. “I’ve given you all the numbers I have!” She clasped her hands together, both to keep them still and in silent prayer. Nobody had been able to reach James. “You called her grandparents, right?”

  At that moment, Liz and Tom McClain, James’s parents, burst through the front door. “Molly!” Liz cried, moving to her granddaughter’s side. “Gram’s here now.” She flashed a paper at one of the emergency workers. “I have legal permission to authorize any care she needs.”

  Tom came toward Rachel. “What happened?”

  In a choking voice, she explained the situation. “I told her not to do it. I’m so sorry!” Her composure broke and hot tears trickled down her face. This was not the way she had planned her first meeting with his parents.

  “Hey, now.” James’s father gathered her into his arms despite the fact they were still virtual strangers. “It’s not your fault. There’s a reason they call them accidents.”

  Her tears became a flood as she wondered if James would react the same way. Or would he blame her for his daughter’s injuries? The way she’d blamed Roman for Daniel’s.

  “I want Miss Rachel!” a small voice cut through all the chaos.

  She’d never heard sweeter words in her life. Rachel shifted from Tom’s embrace, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.

  She pressed through the throng of people to the stretcher where they’d placed Molly. She gripped the little girl’s fingers and tried not to look at the bandage on her head, or the thin arm in a splint. “I’m here, Molly.”

  “Stay with me.”

  Rachel stumbled to keep up with them as they carried Molly to the waiting ambulance. In the twilight, a group of neighbors had gathered on the sidewalk. The atmosphere grew oppressive with every step Rachel took closer to the emergency vehicle. She pressed her hand to her mouth as they lifted Molly and placed her inside.

  Visions of Daniel being loaded into a similar vehicle crowded her mind. The scent of antiseptic drifted from the back. She couldn’t get any air. She felt one of the firemen laying a hand on her back. “Miss? Are you all right?”

  She shook her head. “Can’t…breathe.” She moved toward the bumper of the ambulance. “Need to go with her.” Light-headed, she
swayed.

  The fireman grabbed her by the arm. “You’re not going anywhere right now.”

  Liz climbed up next to the paramedic. “I’ll ride with her.”

  “I’ll follow in the car,” Tom said.

  “I want Miss Rachel!”

  “I’m…sorry, honey.” Rachel gasped.

  “Don’t cry, Miss Rachel. I’ll be okay! I’m unsinkable, remember?”

  More tears gushed down her face at the child’s attempt to comfort her. Another volunteer closed the rear doors and thumped on them. The ambulance pulled away. Tom patted her on the shoulder. “She’s a tough kid. You want to ride with me to the hospital?”

  Unable to speak, Rachel shook her head and sank to the curb, pins and needles assaulting her hands and feet.

  “You’re hyperventilating,” a fireman said. “Breathe slowly. Everything will be all right.” The man continued to coach her in slowing her respiration rate.

  Everything would be all right?

  Then why did she feel as if she’d just failed the most important test of her life?

  THE FRONT PORCH LIGHT gleamed, a welcoming beacon as James pulled into the driveway. Exhausted by first the patient’s crisis, then dealing with Molly’s unexpected trip to the ER, he sat in the SUV for a minute, gathering what was left of his energy reserve to carry his now-sleeping daughter into the house and upstairs to her room.

  The front door opened. Rachel stood, silhouetted in the frame. His heart twisted, a heavy sensation settled into his stomach.

  He’d done some thinking while in the ER.

  A lot of thinking.

  And postponing what he’d decided wouldn’t make it any easier. For either of them. He slowly climbed from the vehicle, picked Molly up out of the back seat, bumped the door closed with his hip and started up the porch steps.

  “How is she?” Rachel whispered. She reached toward Molly, then jammed her hands into her pockets without touching her.