Adopt-a-Dad

by Marion Lennox

  “They were wonderful people.”

  “Were?”

  “They died some time ago.”

  “Oh, Michael, I’m sorry.” She hesitated. “And your birth parents?”

  “I know nothing about them.” His voice was clipped and tight, but she was still too tired to pick up on it. “As I said, my birth mother abandoned us when we were babies.”

  “You’ve never tried to trace her?”

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  “It must be the most awful thing,” she said, her hands moving unconsciously to her stomach. “To give up your baby. And to give up four babies… It’d be like tearing yourself apart.”

  “Not everyone feels like you do.”

  “Maybe not.” Her eyes were clouded, doubtful. She obviously couldn’t see how anyone would feel different.

  His birth mother had, Michael thought bitterly. She’d just walked away.

  “There must have been some dreadful reason. It’d probably be easy enough to trace her-”

  “Leave it, Jen,” he said roughly. “Let’s leave it.”

  The force of his words took her by surprise, and she backed off. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

  She was hurt. He could see in her eyes that she was flinching inside, wondering what she’d said. He hadn’t meant to snap.

  “We’re both tired,” he said, a note of contrition in his voice. “Let’s turn in now. The guest bathroom’s just here. If there’s anything more you want…”

  “No, thank you, Michael. You’ve done enough.” It was an odd, formal little speech and sounded wrong to both of them.

  “I’ll go to bed then,” he said.

  “Good night.”

  Damn, she sounded so forlorn he wanted to take her in his arms and…

  He didn’t know what. He just knew he had to get out of that room while he still had the strength to resist.

  “Good night, then, Jenny. Sleep well.” And he walked out of her bedroom and closed the door so fast you’d think there were demons after him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  M ICHAEL WOKE to the smell of pancakes.

  He lay for a moment in his stark white bedroom, sniffing the air, wondering if he was mistaken. Nope. Definitely pancakes.

  There were pancakes being made in his kitchen.

  How long since anyone had cooked in his kitchen? Shelby had when she was here. When was that-eighteen months ago? He’d eaten at home then, but mostly he ate breakfast down at her diner. The rest of his meals, too, come to think of it. He used the kitchen for making coffee and heating TV dinners.

  But pancakes. Jenny was making pancakes?

  What time was it? He lifted his wrist and inspected his watch. Seven-thirty. He stared at the dial as if it must be a mistake. What was she doing up?

  It had been well past midnight when she went to bed. She should still be sleeping. He shoved back the covers and headed for the door-and then remembered that he wasn’t alone. Swearing, he grabbed his pants as a knock sounded on the door and it started to open.

  He yelped and dived for the bedcovers.

  Whether he’d made it in time or not, he couldn’t tell. When he turned to face his visitor, his sheet decorously up to his neck, she was in the room. A twitching muscle at the corner of her mouth and a twinkle lurking at the back of her eyes made him suspect that he hadn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” she said apologetically, the twinkle growing. “I shouldn’t have disturbed you, but I’ve made you breakfast. It’ll spoil if it stays in the oven.”

  But Michael was no longer focusing on breakfast-or on his modesty. What on earth was she wearing? He blinked, and blinked again. He was accustomed to Jenny in the plain navy or black shapeless dresses she wore to work. They looked like something out of the welfare bin from thirty years back, he thought grimly. He’d grown accustomed to the idea that his secretary spent no money and no time on her clothing.

  But what was she wearing now? There’d been a pile of clothes in the bottom of her suitcase. This must have been among them. Traces of a previous life, he thought.

  And the traces were stunning! She was dressed in bright crimson leggings, an oversize T-shirt that practically reached her knees, with crimson, purple, yellow and white stripes, and brilliant yellow trainers on her feet. With black laces!

  Her shoulder-length curls, usually held demurely back, bounced happily in a ponytail, tied up with a huge crimson ribbon.

  “What the…” She still looked pregnant-very pregnant-but she seemed about ten years younger. She looked amazing.

  She looked gorgeous!

  “You don’t wear clothes like that,” he said, and she grinned, bouncing over to put his pancakes on his bedside table. Her ponytail bounced in unison.

  “I do. Well, mostly I do. In my past life I did. When I’m doing office work, when I’m eight months pregnant and when I don’t have any money to spend on clothes, then I don’t. I wear sacks that I make myself. But these leggings are Lycra. See?” She held up her T-shirt so Michael could see where the Lycra stretched to dangerous limits. He blinked again. “This is what I wore for jogging before I was pregnant. It’s the only outfit that still fits me, though whether or not it will after my baby’s born…” She looked thoughtful. “Maybe I’ve ruined my leggings, but I guess I can always wear suspenders.” She smiled happily at him, supremely unconcerned. “Anyway, I’m off. Here’s your breakfast.”

  “You’re off?”

  “For a jog.” She grinned. “Well, a joggle, more like. I’m not very fast and I’m not very elegant.”

  “Are you supposed to be doing that?”

  “Yep. Abby says so. There’s more pancakes in the oven if you want them. I’ve eaten six.”

  “Six?” He was starting to sound inane, and Jenny was aware of it. She couldn’t know he was just plain dumb-founded.

  “You don’t sound very bright this morning,” she said, peering at him anxiously. “Maybe I shouldn’t have woken you.” She looked at him with maternal concern. “You just eat your pancakes-there’s a nice cup of tea here, too-and then snuggle under the covers. I’ll come in very quietly when I return, so I don’t wake you.”

  “Jenny.” Goaded, he started to throw the covers off, then thought better of it. Jenny chuckled.

  “Very wise.”

  “Wait and I’ll come with you.”

  “Why on earth would you want to do that?” she asked in amazement. “It’s Sunday morning.”

  “Why on earth would you want to do it?”

  “That’s easy. It’s a gorgeous morning. The river’s calling. I’ve been so worried for the last few weeks that I’ve been making myself ill, but suddenly, thanks to you-” her smile softened so much it made his gut kick in “-I’m no longer worried. All’s right with my world and I’m off to feel the sun on my face.” She stooped, and before he knew what she was planning to do, she kissed him lightly on the forehead. Then she whisked herself over to the doorway, smiling at his baffled expression.

  “Jenny,” he began.

  “Yes?”

  He stared. He stared at her some more. Then he stared at the beautifully prepared tray-the stack of pancakes, the maple syrup and whipped butter, the little teapot he hadn’t even known he had.

  Then he stared at her, this stunning, laughing woman he hadn’t known existed under his staid, plain secretary.

  “I’m-I’m sorry I didn’t get up when you started to cook,” he said at last, sounding pathetic even to himself. “I’m not much into domesticity.”

  “Then that’s a pity, Michael,” she said softly, the twinkle still in her eye. He had an overwhelming impression he was being laughed at. “Because, like it or not, you’ve married into all the domesticity I can muster.”

  FOR ABOUT fifteen minutes after she left, he stayed in bed. He ate his pancakes-well, he ate four and couldn’t figure out how she’d managed six-and then lay back and stared at the ceiling.

  Sunday morning he usually joined up with a couple of buddies wh
o were into basketball. Like him, they were cops or ex-cops. They shot a few baskets, had a couple of beers and shared some laughs, and generally reassured themselves that the bachelor life they led was exactly what they wanted.

  Once upon a time there were a dozen or so guys who showed up. Lately he’d been thinking they were becoming an endangered species.

  If he didn’t go, he told himself, they’d be even more endangered.

  So why shouldn’t he go? He’d given Jenny a key last night. There was no need for him to stay here and wait for her to return. He could head off to the courts, and she could let herself in. There was no need to wait.

  She shouldn’t be long.

  He rose and showered-slowly-and dressed, and she wasn’t back yet.

  He took his breakfast dishes into his pristine kitchen and loaded the dishwasher. He collected the newspaper and read a few headlines.

  She still wasn’t back.

  The guys would be waiting. They’d be on the court. He paced and swore.

  She wasn’t back even then.

  Okay, he’d just wander down the road, take the path by the river. Heck, it was as good for him to take a river walk as it was to shoot baskets, and the guys wouldn’t miss him this once.

  He started walking. But since he was wearing runners, it wasn’t long before his feet started a jogging rhythm.

  What if Gloria’s thugs had been waiting for her?

  Logic told him he was being unreasonable. There was no way Gloria’s hired men would be lying in wait for her down by the river so early on a Sunday morning. There was no chance they could have guessed she’d go there.

  But if they’d been driving by…

  “You’re getting paranoid,” Michael said crossly, but his feet hastened their pace all the same, his jog turning to a run. Finally he could see the wide riverbank and…

  She was there.

  If there was one thing that could be said for yellow, crimson, purple and white stripes on a very pregnant lady, it was that they could be seen from a long way off. Jenny stood out like a striped beacon. She appeared to be…

  Playing hopscotch?

  She couldn’t be, Michael thought. But that was exactly what she was doing. “Home,” she yelled triumphantly. She was surrounded by a sea of little girls-half a dozen six-or seven-year-olds-and they had a hopscotch court marked with stones. They’d been egging her on. She held up her stick, triumphant, and waved. “You bet I couldn’t make it. How’s that for a pregnant lady?”

  The girls fell into a fit of giggles, and an elderly lady rose from the park bench and clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful, my dear. But should you be jumping? I mean, the baby…”

  “My baby’s jumping so much that his mother needs to get her own back.” She grinned at the girls, and then she caught sight of Michael, who just happened to arrive breathless. “Michael.”

  He said the first thing that came into his head, and his first thought was the same as the elderly lady’s. “You shouldn’t be jumping.”

  “Are you an obstetrician?”

  “No, but…”

  “Then I’m jumping.”

  “Nope.” He reached her and pulled her away from the hopscotch court, then stood glaring into her laughing eyes. “Honestly, woman, have you no sense?”

  She laughed at him, her face glowing with exercise and sunshine. The October morning was clear, with the promise of a gorgeous day to come. “I’m not feeling very sensible,” she admitted. “I’m feeling pretty happy right at this minute. Michael, this is Mrs. Eldbridge and her granddaughter Susan, and Susan’s friends, Lucy and Veronica and Louise and Carrie and Rebecca. It’s Susan’s seventh birthday, or it was yesterday. We’re still celebrating. Ladies, this is…this is Michael.”

  “Is he your husband?” A child with a hole instead of a front tooth and two extremely long pigtails looked at him with interest. For the first time, Jenny faltered.

  “Yes. This is my husband.”

  “And your husband says you shouldn’t be playing hopscotch,” Michael growled, and the little girls giggled. They clearly didn’t think much of his ferocity, but they seemed to think Michael himself was just fine.

  The little girls obviously thought he was a hunk, Jenny observed. Her husband.

  Somehow she made herself concentrate on something other than his body. “Michael, I was thinking…”

  He still held her. His hands were on her shoulders where he’d pulled her from the hopscotch court. She looked into his face and smiled, and suddenly she was too close for comfort. Way too close-but there was no way he was releasing her.

  “Can we all come back to your-to our place for pancakes?” she asked.

  That stunned him. “What, everyone?” He looked around the sea of expectant faces, and Jenny put an entreating hand on the collar of his shirt.

  “It’s just… Mrs. Eldbridge lives in a one-room apartment with her granddaughter, and Susan really wanted a sleepover for her birthday party. So that’s what they had, but the girls woke up very early and there’s a man who sleeps in the apartment above who…who doesn’t like being woken up early and was rude.”

  “He yelled awful things,” the little girl with pigtails said, wide-eyed.

  “And the girls aren’t being collected by their parents until eleven, so Mrs. Eldbridge brought them down to the river. But she still has more than two hours to fill.”

  He gave an inward groan. “Jenny, I don’t see…”

  “We have enough to give everyone breakfast, don’t we?”

  “I don’t think I do,” Michael said. “I mean we. For a start we don’t have enough plates.” For heaven’s sake, what was he saying? This was nothing to do with him. He didn’t want to be part of a child’s birthday party!

  “Of course you don’t have enough plates,” Mrs. Eldbridge said. “That’s nonsense. We’re fine. We’ll keep walking, won’t we, girls? Let’s see if we can see some boats.”

  The girls’ faces fell as one.

  “I’ve walked enough,” one said sadly. “These are my party shoes.” She gulped, sticking one shiny red shoe in front of her. “Actually,” she said carefully, “they’re my sister’s party shoes, and they pinch my toes. They hurt.”

  She looked at Michael with huge, mournful eyes, and Jenny gazed at him with eyes just as pleading. Cocker spaniel eyes. Eyes a man could drown in.

  Good grief!

  “We don’t have enough plates,” he repeated weakly. It sounded pathetic, even to him.

  “We could share,” the little girl with the pinching shoes said.

  No! The thought of a seven-year-old birthday party in his bachelor town house was almost claustrophobic. But every eye was on him, including Jenny’s. Clearly she’d offered hospitality, and she expected him to back her. He was wedged into a corner, and he said the only thing possible.

  “Why don’t we go to Shelby’s?”

  “Shelby’s?” Jenny was as confused as the children.

  “My sister runs a diner. It’s not too far from here.” Yep. That’s what they’d do, he decided. After all, what use were sisters if they couldn’t bail you out once in a while? “Shelby makes the best breakfast.”

  “You want to go to your sister’s diner?” She stared at him and then at her stripes. “Now?”

  Hey, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, he realized, but he’d already suggested it, and the kids were looking as if they’d been offered Christmas. This wasn’t a privileged group, he decided. Most of the little girls looked as if they were dressed in hand-me-downs, and Susan, the birthday girl, was almost waiflike. She obviously lived with her grandma, and Grandma didn’t look as if there was any money to spare at all.

  Okay. So Jenny’s heartstrings had been tugged, and he was expected to come to the party. He didn’t even know if Shelby would be at the diner herself.

  “We’ll need two cabs,” he said in a voice that sounded more sure than he felt. He’d get this over with and then he’d give Jenny a very firm talking-to about wha
t she should expect of him. Maybe it was okay for her to get involved, but she couldn’t involve him. He didn’t need this in his life. “We’ll take two cabs, and we’ll drop you back at your home at eleven.”

  “There’s no need for you to do that, young man,” Mrs. Eldbridge said with quiet dignity. “The girls and I are just fine walking by the water until it’s time to go home.”

  He should agree-but they were all looking at him. One elderly lady in a worn dress and six small girls with bright, expectant faces. And one Jenny.

  All of a sudden it was easy. “There is a need,” he said, smiling at the elderly lady with his most heart-stopping smile. “It would be a real pleasure for Jenny and me to be included in Susan’s birthday. If you’ll permit us.”

  She smiled then, a huge, relieved smile that almost made him glad he’d offered. “Well, young man. That’s so nice of you, you and your lovely wife. I’d almost forgotten that such nice young couples exist.” She beamed at Jenny. “You’re so lucky, my dear. He’s really special.”

  Jenny beamed right back, and tucked her hand proprietorially around Michael’s arm.

  “Don’t I know it?” she said. “I’m feeling luckier by the minute.”

  SHELBY was at the diner.

  It only took five minutes to get there by car. Michael and Mrs. Eldbridge went in one cab with three of the girls while Jenny and the other three followed behind in a second taxi. They assembled on the pavement, and Michael opened the door to usher them inside.

  Shelby looked up from behind the counter-and nearly dropped the plate she was carrying.

  “Michael,” she said, in a voice that sounded like she’d been hit with a hundred volts.

  “Hi, Shel. What do you do in the way of birthday breakfasts?”

  “Birthday?”

  “It’s Susan’s birthday,” Michael told her patiently, in a voice that suggested she’d better treat this as normal-or else. He motioned to Susan. “Here she is. The birthday girl herself. I thought pancakes. Or doughnuts. Or…”

  “Or both?” Susan said wistfully, staring around in appreciation at Shelby’s cozy eatery. The smells coming from the kitchen were mouthwatering, and Michael could see lights coming on in all the little girls’ eyes.