Adopt-a-Dad

by Marion Lennox

  “But in one way, it’s selfishness to keep my baby away,” Jenny said slowly, thinking about it, as she’d done a million times before. Thinking of what Peter would have wanted. Her baby’s father. “I’m robbing my baby of his birthright so that I can have a say in how he’s raised.”

  “You’re not robbing him of his birthright,” Megan said solidly. “Are you telling me when he comes of age he can’t head back to Britain and claim his birthright?”

  “No, but-”

  “Then don’t be silly. You’re his mother. It’s your right-your duty even-to raise your son the best way you know how.”

  “You know-” Jenny hesitated and met Megan’s eyes “-I have the feeling that’s why Michael’s helping me…because his own birth mother didn’t do that. Raise him, I mean. I’m starting to feel that Michael’s carrying so much anger. And by helping me he’s almost thumbing his nose at his birth mother, saying, ‘You could have taken care of us.’”

  There was a long, long silence as Megan stared across the table at Jenny’s troubled face. And then the older woman’s face softened. She took Jenny’s hand in hers again and held it tight.

  “Garrett said you were one amazing lady, and he was right,” Megan said. “That’s quite an intuition you have there.”

  “I don’t know if I’m right.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re right,” Megan told her. “That boy… Michael internalizes everything. He was the one who was full of questions about his real parents from the time he could understand what happened. Then, when he was about eight, all of a sudden he got angry. He hated the thought that he’d been abandoned. And now…”

  “Now?”

  “Now his birth mother is trying to make contact with her children. He doesn’t want to know. He’s still so angry.”

  “I’d guess…” Jenny sighed and stirred her coffee. She needed to do something to keep herself from rising and pacing the floor, which was what she felt like doing. This conversation was almost unbelievable.

  “His birth mother mustn’t have had a Michael to rescue her from her demons,” she whispered. “Poor lady. She must have had such strong reasons for walking away from her children.”

  Unconsciously her hand touched her pajama-clad tummy in a gesture of defense. She looked up and saw that Megan’s eyes had dropped to her waistline, and Jenny was embarrassingly aware of her inelegant outfit.

  “Sorry.” She hitched the pajama cord tighter over her baby. “This… This isn’t me at my best. If Michael could see how I’m entertaining guests in his home, he’d be horrified.”

  “I don’t think horrified is the word for it.” Megan smiled. “When I talked to Michael this morning he seemed just plain befuddled.” She stooped to look under the table, checking out Socks and giving Jenny a chance to regain her composure. “To find himself with a wife and a dog all in one weekend. And what a dog!”

  “He’s wonderful,” Jenny said warmly. The dog was something she could talk about. “Socks, come here.” At the sound of his name, Socks looked at her adoringly, then stood and flopped his big ears across her knees. “He’s just the best.”

  “You know, after he was eight, Michael would never have a pet of his own,” Megan told her, watching Socks with interest. “It troubled his adoptive parents. He hasn’t let anything or anyone close to him.”

  “No.” Jenny fondled Socks’s ears and looked troubled, too. “And now he’s landed with me. Well, please don’t worry, Mrs. Maitland. I won’t stick around any longer than I must. As soon as my baby’s born and I have residence status…”

  “But I don’t think you understand, my dear,” Megan said. Her hand clasped Jenny’s again. Her grip was strong and sure-a woman who knew what was right. “We’re not troubled that Michael has-as you describe it-been landed with you. Garrett and I-and as far as I can see, Lana and Shelby, too-are delighted.”

  “But-”

  “Garrett told me you could do Michael nothing but good, and after meeting you, I think I agree.”

  “So you’d have him saddled with another man’s baby.”

  “What I’m thinking,” Megan said, eyeing Socks with amusement, “is that this baby may well end up being Michael’s baby. As Socks may well end up being Michael’s dog.”

  “Now that,” Jenny said warmly, grinning despite her trouble, “is really ridiculous.”

  “What’s really ridiculous?” Michael said from behind her, and she jumped about a foot.

  “MICHAEL.”

  It was all so domestic. So cozy. Michael stopped in the doorway and blinked in amazement. Megan was sitting over a mug of coffee, her eyes dancing with laughter, and his Jenny was laughing, too.

  Not his Jenny. Not his anything.

  “Woof!”

  Socks broke the silence. He’d obviously remembered Jenny’s injunction that he was the guard dog around here, which meant he had to utter one threatening bark before hurling himself across the floor to jump up on Michael’s best work suit. Michael caught his paws and staggered under the weight of him as Socks’s tongue came out to lick his face.

  “Ugh. Stupid dog. Get off. Jenny, I thought you were going to train him.”

  “Hardly before breakfast on day one,” Jenny retorted, turning bright pink.

  “Before breakfast?” He glanced at his watch and grinned. “It’s almost eleven o’clock.”

  Jenny’s blush deepened. “Just because some people get up early one day in their lives, they think they can gloat. Not likely. I’ll have you know I beat you to work every single day for the last few months.”

  “So you did.” He smiled at his wife, and the pleasure glimmering in his dark eyes made Megan stare. Was this Michael?

  “What are you doing home, anyway?” Jenny asked, and Megan stared some more. She couldn’t remember when she’d seen laughter in Michael’s eyes. He always held himself so aloof.

  “I was in by six. I decided to take an early lunch, so I thought I might come home.”

  “Well, that’s a novelty.” Megan shook her head in amazement. “You’re honored indeed, Jenny. This is a man who has two-minute lunch grabs in the hospital cafeteria or, at best, five-minute salads at his sister’s diner. To what does Jenny owe this pleasure?”

  “Hey, I have a wife now,” Michael said, grinning. “I have domestic responsibilities all over the place, and besides, Jen told me she can cook.” He checked out his wife’s pajamas and shook his head. “I might have hoped for a more appealing outfit, but never mind. I’ll excuse it this once. Do we have something for lunch, Jen?”

  “Of course we do.” She hauled her dignity together as best she could, stood and hitched her pajama cord tighter. “The menu is cornflakes. Cornflakes, cornflakes or cornflakes. That’s it. We’re even out of TV dinners. Socks ate the lot. Sorry. Socks and I need to go shopping.”

  “So it’s cornflakes.” Michael sat down, his smile still holding Jenny tight. “My favorite. What a woman! What do you think of my wife, Aunt Megan?”

  “I think you’re a very lucky man, Michael Lord,” Megan said in a voice that made Michael’s smile die. There was no laughter in Megan’s voice at all. She sounded deadly serious. “I’m with Garrett all the way on this one.”

  Silence. You could have heard a pin drop. Finally Jenny spoke. “I’m off to get dressed,” she said. “You think you can manage your own cornflakes? The directions are on the box.”

  “A dutiful wife would pour my flakes,” Michael said, trying for a casualness he didn’t feel. Jenny chuckled.

  “Where would you like them poured, dearest?” Jenny took a step toward the cereal box, speaking in honeyed tones, and Michael grinned and raised his hands in self-defense.

  “Okay, woman. I can take a hint. Leave me with our guest and the dog and the domestic chores while you fritter your time away on your appearance. Marriage! It’s not what it’s cut out to be, Aunt Megan.”

  “I can see that,” Megan agreed, still serious. “And aren’t you lucky that it’s not.”

&n
bsp; Once more there was an uncomfortable silence. Jenny saw the smile die on Michael’s face. He was feeling trapped, she thought, and wished suddenly that Megan would go. He needed space. He didn’t need to be crowded like this.

  She could make him laugh again if Megan left.

  The knowledge came to her in a flash-she knew him as well as Megan did. That was crazy! Megan was like family.

  But Jenny was his wife.

  It was too much to take in.

  “I’m off,” she said again desperately, and headed for her room-then stopped dead as another knock sounded.

  Great!

  “Will you excuse me?” Jen asked carefully. “I’m not dressed for visitors.”

  “You’re dressed for Megan,” Michael said. “Isn’t she a visitor?” And then he looked at Socks, who’d abandoned his pursuit of nosing for errant cornflakes. Socks was standing bolt upright, and the hair on the back of his neck was bristling

  The dog growled.

  “But he didn’t even bark at Mrs. Maitland,” Jen said wonderingly, putting a hand down and touching his bristling fur.

  “That’s Megan to you,” Megan said blandly. She had the look of someone who was enjoying herself. “Or Aunt Megan, if you must, and it’s a wise dog. Socks knows family.”

  “But…”

  “So if it’s not family…” Michael sighed. “Surely it’s not official. I’ve just about had enough of this. Jen, stay where you are.” He walked to the front door while Jenny stayed behind, holding Socks by the scruff of his neck. The Gray Suits were back again.

  “YOU GUYS don’t know when to give up.”

  Michael stood on the front step and stared at the two men, summing them up. Officials through and through. There was nothing to fear there. Then he looked past them, and there was Gloria-again-standing next to her luxurious rental car. Behind her were the two thugs who’d threatened Jenny with the syringe. Bruno and the other one.

  Now what?

  Now nothing. The two men on the doorstep were definitely officials. There was no way they could stand by and watch while anything untoward happened-especially since Megan was standing in the kitchen with the door open.

  So keep it light.

  “Hi, Gloria,” Michael called, and waved. “Lovely day. Great day for traveling. You heading to your earldom soon? I don’t know how England can be managing without you.”

  Maybe humor wasn’t Gloria’s strong point. The woman flushed a deep shade of red, and then her face was shuttered. She was dressed all in black, her hair was drawn into a chignon that stretched every muscle tight in her face, and she looked as if she was about to bust her stays.

  Where had that expression come from? Michael wondered irreverently, and only the thought of the thugs beside her kept him from grinning.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked, turning to the officials, who were regarding him with caution.

  “We’re doing a residence check on Jennifer Morrow.”

  “Jennifer Lord,” he reminded them. “My wife.” He looked closely at the older of the two men. “Can I see your ID, please?”

  He was presented with two ID cards and grimaced. Okay, they were official, which meant he had to be polite. Where did Gloria keep digging them up?

  “A residence check?”

  “Our information is that Jennifer Morrow-Jennifer Lord-works at Maitland Maternity and she lives with you. The official who came here last night wasn’t able to verify that she was here, and she wasn’t at work this morning.”

  Michael sighed. “Nope. She was asleep last night because she was tired. She’s given up work now because she’s tired. It happens, you know. Tiredness. It goes with advanced pregnancy. Our baby’s due in a little over three weeks.”

  “What does he mean-our baby?” The hiss came from the street, and Michael sighed again.

  “I told the official last night that this lady wasn’t welcome here,” he said, motioning to Gloria. “My wife is frightened of her. She’s intimidating and she’s unpleasant. If this is an official visit, then can we go indoors and leave her outside?”

  The older official hesitated. And then he raised his shoulders. “Mr. Lord, this lady-” he indicated Gloria with an expression that told Michael his opinion of the woman was somewhere around the same level of distaste as Michael’s “-has been making her presence felt around the department in no uncertain terms. She has people leaning on us all over, and we’re not enjoying it one bit. She’s swearing to us that your marriage is a sham and that this Jennifer-”

  “My wife.”

  “Yes. Your wife. She says that Jennifer doesn’t live here.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “But it would save us a whole lot of grief if we could just see her,” the official said. He gestured to Gloria. “And her mightiness, too.”

  “My wife doesn’t wish to see her.”

  “Hey, Michael!” There was a holler from the street, and Michael turned to see Lana heading toward him, with baby Greg bundled in a cocoon at her breast.

  “What are you doing home? What’s wrong?” she called, anxiety in her voice. “Is there something the matter with Jenny?”

  “Jenny’s fine.”

  “I’ve got the day off from the store and just came to take her shopping.” She walked up the street toward them, making a careful assessment of the callers. “Is she busy?”

  “She’s entertaining guests,” Michael said, then sighed one last time and stood aside. Why fight what was starting to look like an avalanche? “Jen, we’re coming in,” he called toward the kitchen. “For Pete’s sake, hang on to Socks!”

  SOCKS WAS NOT amused. The dog allowed Michael in, even giving a perfunctory wag of his tail. He figured instinctively that Lana and the baby were friends. But when he saw the Suits, his hair stood straight up again, and when Gloria and her thugs marched in, his control broke. He snarled and launched himself forward.

  Jenny held on for all she was worth, but Socks had strengths she didn’t know about. She stumbled against something-probably Lana’s foot-and would have fallen except for Michael. He caught her, and then whirled to catch Socks before the mutt went for Gloria’s jugular.

  And then there was silence.

  The silence went on and on, the only sound the low growl of Socks as he strained against Michael’s grip. Whatever canine instinct was working here, it was working well. These people wished Jenny ill, and Socks wanted them out of here.

  “I agree,” Michael said at last, as the second of the thugs came in and edged cautiously around the table out of the dog’s range. “I don’t like them any more than you do, boy, but we have no choice but to talk to them. Now sit.”

  And to everybody’s amazement, Socks sat. He looked resignedly at Michael as if to say, “Okay, I’m sitting. But one word from you and I’ll have these guys on toast.”

  Jenny couldn’t see. Her face was against Michael’s chest, and she was burning with embarrassment. Michael grimaced, then lightly touched her tousled curls with his lips and turned her to face the assembled company. She made a desperate struggle to stay exactly where she was and then gave up. She stood there, facing Gloria in pajamas…facing the world in pajamas!

  They were all looking at her. Megan was watching with kindly approval. Lana was staring with stunned surprise and the beginnings of laughter. The Suits were staring as if she was some sort of peculiar specimen, the thugs were watching with veiled menace, and Gloria was glaring at her with loathing.

  And the waist of her pajamas was slipping down!

  Before she could do anything, Michael’s arms came around her, and one of his hands slipped to the side and her pajama bottoms rose miraculously to their rightful position. She practically sagged with relief. She did sag, but Michael’s hold tightened, and his mouth once again brushed her hair.

  “You’re my wife and I’m proud of you,” he whispered into her ear, and her blush started all over again. “Remember that.” And then he turned to face the company.

 
“Now.”

  Michael’s gaze took in the assembled company. “Who do we have here? Lana, you’re here to take my wife shopping. Very nice. She needs something a little more fashionable in the nightwear line, and I’m counting on you to help out. Aunt Megan, you’re here to get to know my gorgeous Jenny. I know you approve.”

  His gaze moved to the immigration officials. “And you two gentlemen. What are you here for?”

  “To satisfy ourselves that this woman is living as your wife,” the older Suit said.

  “And are you satisfied? I told your colleague last night that my wife was exhausted. She slept late this morning and she can hardly look more domestic than she does now. Or are you saying I telephoned her when I heard your knock, she grabbed a cab and rushed across town and arrived here to greet you?”

  “I think we’re satisfied now, sir,” he said, but the younger man stopped him.

  “If I may…”

  “What is it, Charles?” his partner asked, and Charles gave a self-conscious grin.

  “The old lady says this marriage is a sham and she wants us to prove it. You want proof this lady lives here? Use the dog.”

  “The dog?”

  “It’s obviously Lord’s dog,” Charles said patiently. He addressed himself to Jenny. “Okay. The dog’s clearly vicious. Your husband’s told it to sit. I want you to grab the mutt from behind and haul it backward away from him.” He raised his brows. “There’s not many dogs that’ll tolerate that-except from an owner. So will you do it? Unless you’re afraid, of course. If you’re the least bit unsure, then don’t even try.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Megan said, startled, but Michael was grinning. He’d seen what Jenny could do with Socks last night. They’d bonded like two soul mates.

  “I don’t want to,” Jenny said with dignity. “It’s not fair to Socks to tease him like that.”

  But Michael propelled her forward.

  “Just do it, Jen. Then never again. Let them all see that Socks is yours as much as he is mine.” He grinned.

  She didn’t grin back.