Adopt-a-Dad

by Marion Lennox

  Her humiliation level somewhere above her eyebrows, she stalked around to stand behind Socks. Socks was still sitting, as ordered, gazing at Michael with love. His dopey face was a huge question mark.

  “It’s just me, Socks,” Jenny said, then grabbed his skinny frame around the middle and hauled him backward. “Sorry I have to do this!”

  As an attack dog, Socks was definitely a failure. His rump slid easily across the polished tiles, and he gazed around in surprise to see who was doing the hauling. When he realized it was Jenny, he wriggled all over with delight and gave her a long, slurpy lick. Then he went back to glaring at the thugs.

  “Sit,” Jenny said as she wiped a hand over her damp face. “Sit!” She stared helplessly at Michael. “He might let me do anything to him but he won’t sit for me.”

  “He knows who’s boss,” Michael said smugly, crossing the room to pat Socks and then hold his wife hard against him again. He turned to the officials. “Satisfied?”

  “Perfectly, sir,” Charles said, and beamed. He turned to his boss. “This lady knows this dog, sir.”

  “It’s not totally conclusive,” the older man said, though clearly it was convincing enough for him. “There’s a written interview we’d like you both to complete.”

  “Not now,” Michael said. “My wife’s been through enough. I do not want my son born prematurely.”

  My son… The words were like a bombshell.

  There was a hiss from Gloria. “Your son?”

  “Yes, ma’am, my son,” Michael said blandly, meeting her look. “We had him checked out so we knew what color to paint his bedroom. We’re hoping he’ll have red hair, just like his daddy.”

  “He’s not your son.” Gloria almost spat the words. “He’s my…”

  “Yes?” Michael raised his eyebrows.

  “He’s my grandson. My heir!” It was practically a wail, and despite himself, Michael softened. There was a touch of desperation there.

  “Then I suggest you get yourself on decent terms with my wife,” he said softly. “We have no objections to our son meeting you and getting to know you as he gets older-as long as you realize that we’re his parents.”

  “You’re not his parents.”

  “You’re saying my wife is not his mother?”

  “I-” Gloria was almost speechless with rage.

  “Yes?” He smiled at her, waiting for her to go on, and of course she couldn’t.

  “You’ll regret this,” she said, and whirled to leave, but Jenny rushed over to her, placing a hand on her beautifully jacketed arm.

  “Gloria…”

  The woman whirled to face her, and she looked at Jenny’s hand as if it was infectious.

  “Get your hand off me.”

  “But-”

  “I have nothing to say to you. Unless you agree to return to England like a sensible woman.”

  “You know I can’t do that.” Jenny’s voice was laced with unhappiness, and Michael heard it and took an instinctive step forward.

  “Then I have nothing more to say to you, girl,” the woman snapped, and shook her aside and stalked out of the room.

  Her hired men followed.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  T HE IMMIGRATION officials left soon after.

  “We’re real sorry to have bothered you again,” the older man told them, while Charles made friends with Socks. “You can’t believe the pressure we’re dealing with over this one. Our report will recommend an end to the thing, and the pressure should stop. She’ll be able to insist on one last interview. In the case of a rushed marriage involving a green card, the usual follow-up is an interview to make sure everything’s in order, but now that the claim you’re living apart has been disproved, we’ll put that off until after the birth.”

  Michael only had part of his mind on the conversation. He was watching Jenny, who was on the floor, Socks sprawled ecstatically over her knees. Lana was down there, too, with baby Greg gurgling on her lap. But Michael’s gaze rested solely on Jenny. She looked extraordinary.

  In that moment, emotions stirred in Michael that he’d sworn he’d never feel again. And there were new emotions, too-ones he hadn’t even known he was capable of feeling. He knew right then and there that he welcomed them. He was falling in love, he thought, dazed. He was falling in love with his wife, and he was loving every minute of it.

  “She really is very beautiful,” the older official said, watching Michael’s face with good-humored understanding.

  “I…yes. I’m sorry.”

  “There’s definitely no need to apologize, sir,” the man said, and beamed. “We see all sorts in this business, and it’s a pleasure to see a happy marriage. And I sure don’t blame you for looking at her. If I may say so, your wife’s not the sort of woman you’d want to take your eyes off for a minute.”

  “No. I…” He forced his mind back to business. Or some of his mind-the part that wasn’t taken up with his stunning new discovery. “The interview?”

  “It’s just a formality, as I said. A check that you know each other as well as most married couples do.” His beam widened. “It’s my guess that your knowledge might be deeper than most, so there’s nothing at all to worry about. We’ll contact you in a few weeks. All the very best for the baby’s arrival, and if her ladyship causes trouble, please let us know.” He shook Michael’s hand. “Charles!”

  Charles rose reluctantly from the floor, where he’d been petting Socks.

  “YOU KNOW,” Jenny said casually as Michael accompanied the immigration officials to the door, “I might just slip into something a touch more respectable.” She smiled at Megan. “Entertaining in my revolting old pajamas…”

  “Hey, I like your pajamas,” Lana told her. “They could start a new fashion in comfortable maternity wear.” She grinned, but Megan shook her head. She rose from her chair, gave Jenny a hand up from the floor and propelled her toward her bedroom.

  “Let’s give the girl back some dignity,” she told Lana. “Jenny, now’s your chance. You make a break for it, and we’ll cover your pajama-clad butt.”

  TWO MINUTES later Michael walked into the kitchen after seeing the immigration officers off the premises, and found Jenny had gone. His sister and Megan wore identical goofy grins as they watched him enter. Michael stopped at the door and stared at the pair of them.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “What do you mean, what?” Lana asked innocently, and her eyes danced.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I have a huge joke written across my forehead.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Lana declared. “Do you, Aunt Megan?”

  “Who, me? No, dear. I can’t imagine. We’ve sent your Jenny to get dressed, Michael, dear.”

  “She’s not my Jenny.”

  “Oh, I think she is.” Megan reached down to fondle Socks’s ears. “Deny it all you like. It’ll work about as well as convincing me that Socks isn’t your dog.”

  “That’s another thing,” Lana said carefully. “Where did Socks come from?” She fixed her bother with bright-eyed interest.

  “Jenny found him,” he muttered.

  “And brought him home. I see.”

  “If you laugh, you’ll live to regret it,” he warned.

  “Behold me terrified.” Lana gave little Greg a hug and held him at arm’s length. “Greg, honey, your big, bad uncle Michael just threatened me. Did you hear? Were you frightened? Nope?” She chuckled. “Me, neither.”

  “Lana…”

  “Yes?” She smiled sweetly at him, and he practically ground his teeth in frustration.

  “Well,” Lana said, apparently satisfied with his response. “I hate to be the one to break up this cozy family get-together, but-”

  “You’re leaving?” Michael asked hopefully.

  “Not alone. I hope to have Jenny with me. When you asked me to find her something to wear for the wedding, I realized she had nothin
g organized at all.”

  “I don’t think she wants more clothes.” Michael frowned. “Except pajamas. I’d agree she could use replacements. But she hardly needs more maternity clothes. The baby’s almost due.”

  “That’s what I mean,” Lana said patiently. “Jenny looks like she’s due to drop her bundle any minute, and how many diapers do you have on hand, brother dearest?”

  “Diapers?”

  She sighed, as if she was addressing a bear of very little brain. “Yes, diapers, you dope. If you intend to raise a baby without diapers, we’ll see the end of this place as a classy neighborhood. Oh, and on the subject of baby gear…you told Gloria that you were painting the baby’s bedroom. Which bedroom exactly? And do you have a crib?”

  “Crib?”

  She sighed again. “Michael…”

  “Okay, okay.” He held up his hands in defeat. “I’m not entirely nuts. I know what a crib is.” Then, as Jenny appeared in the doorway, demurely dressed in her plain secretarial maternity dress, he turned to her in relief. She’d brushed her curls from her face, and he could almost pretend she was back to being his secretary again-a role he could cope with emotionally. “Jen, do you have diapers? Do you have a crib?”

  “Not yet.” She blinked and stared at the faces watching her. These people were practically too much to take in all at once. Her assorted family.

  One husband. One sister-in-law with baby attached. One sort of aunt-in-law. One dumb but gorgeous dog.

  She’d gone from rags to riches in the family stakes in one fell swoop, she thought suddenly, and it felt…stunning. There was affection on all their faces, and she felt tears sting her eyes.

  But they were waiting for her answer.

  “So when are you planning to get them?” Lana asked patiently.

  “Sometime soon.”

  “And this baby?” Lana probed. “He intends arriving sometime soon?”

  “In three weeks.”

  “He has a diary in there with his planned arrival time written in indelible ink?”

  “First babies are never early,” Jenny said stoutly, and Lana chortled as Michael watched silently from the sidelines. He was doing his own thinking.

  “Ha!” Lana scoffed. “I had a lady in my shop on Friday buying a romper suit for her baby, who was due tomorrow. He’s now seven weeks old.”

  “I…”

  “Jenny, you need to be organized, and I’m just the person to help you do it,” Lana said. “Organization is my specialty. Just ask Dylan. I organized him right into marriage. And Mike. I’ve been organizing him since he was three years old. So while I’m on a roll, I thought I’d take you back to my shop right now.” She smiled at Jenny’s bewildered look. “You know I own Oh, Baby!”

  “Oh!” Jenny gasped. How many times had she slowed as she’d passed the baby shop, looking longingly in the window at all the delightful things for sale? “Of course. I’ve been past there. It’s lovely. But I can’t afford-”

  She closed her eyes. Things were getting out of control. How could she tell them she intended to buy discount store clothes, and a crib and stroller secondhand?

  “That’s irrelevant. I’m paying,” Michael announced, and her eyes opened again.

  “No.”

  “Yes!”

  “Michael, no,” she said, distressed. “I can’t-”

  “You can,” Megan said. She’d been watching Jenny’s face, saying nothing, but her intelligent mind had been assessing and coming to conclusions. She moved to take Jenny’s faltering hands in hers. “But you needn’t accept Michael’s help in this area, my dear, because this is what I’m going to do. You’re going to accept your baby needs as a combined gift from me and the staff at Maitland. This is our gift to you.”

  Jenny took a step back, but Megan’s hands held fast. “Mrs. Maitland, I can’t!”

  “You left work on Thursday without being given your farewell gifts,” Megan said sternly. “The staff had taken a collection for a baby shower. Ellie’s given me a check to add to it. She’s grateful for the change you brought to our security offices over the last five months and-” she gave Michael a sideways smile “-she’s grateful for the changes you brought about in our security chief. I’m equally grateful. Lana will dictate what you need, and-”

  “Mrs. Maitland-”

  “It’s Aunt Megan to you while you’re married to Michael,” she corrected sternly. “Jennifer, I assume you’d like your job back at Maitland Maternity one day?”

  “I… Yes.”

  “Then learn to accept gifts gracefully. I never got a chance to give the pair of you a wedding gift-”

  “We’re not-”

  “Married? Don’t talk nonsense. You’re more married than you think. So take this with my blessings. And, Michael?”

  “Yes, ma’am?” Michael was just plain bemused.

  “You were intending to go back to work after lunch?”

  “Of course.”

  “There’s no of course about it,” she said sternly. “You’re not welcome at work. You haven’t had a break for two years. I’m ordering you to take time off, starting today, and help Jenny get herself organized.”

  “But-”

  “You don’t think Jenny needs help?”

  “I don’t,” Jenny interrupted, but Megan shook her head.

  “There speaks a woman who doesn’t own so much as a diaper for a son who’s due to appear any minute. Lana, can you take this hopeless pair shopping?”

  “I’d love to.” Lana was practically choking with laughter. “Dylan’s meeting me for lunch. Maybe we could all go out together. Make a day of it. I’ll bet we could even persuade Jenny to buy some new pajamas.”

  “What’s wrong with my pajamas?” Jenny protested, and they all laughed. Suddenly Jenny was laughing with them. This was so easy. And the way Michael was looking at her…

  She gazed at him, and her breath caught in her throat. There was affection there, and more…

  “Maybe you could do with some pajamas with a proper cord,” Megan was saying as Jenny’s eyes met Michael’s and held. They hardly heard her. “But diapers first.”

  There was nothing more to say.

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Michael, his eyes still on Jenny’s, and it was all he could do to get the words out. “Whatever you say, Aunt Megan.”

  WHAT FOLLOWED was an amazing few hours. Lana collected Dylan because she figured Michael might need some male support, but to Jenny’s astonishment, the men took over.

  “Surely we don’t need all this stuff,” she said helplessly as a miniature baseball league sweater landed on top of a pile of baby gear a mile high.

  “You were maybe considering teaching your son cricket?” Michael teased. “You have a green card now, Mrs. Lord. This baby grows up playing American sports.”

  “Then we need a baseball bat,” Dylan said decisively, and swooped off to the other side of the store to find one. “Like Greg has.”

  “No!”

  Michael lifted the bat Dylan found and inspected it with approval, ignoring Jenny’s protest. “This is more like it. Do you have a ball, Lana? Let’s try this out for size.”

  While Jenny watched helplessly, and Lana made piles of diapers and undershirts and sleepers, Dylan and Michael set up an impromptu baseball game in the crowded store. Luckily it was a foam ball. Customers came and went, eyeing the pair with amusement, but Dylan and Michael carried right on.

  “It’s good advertising, Lana,” Michael told his sister. “Bet you sell a ton of these today.” And she did. By the time hunger hit, Lana didn’t have a miniature bat left in stock.

  Then, with the guys still in charge, they carried the sleeping Greg to the car and ended up in Shelby’s diner for lunch-where the baseball game started up again. A few stunned residents and nurses from the clinic were promptly organized into teams, and the foam ball flew from booth to booth.

  “You’re all nuts,” Shelby told them. “Get out of here.”

  Michael gave his sist
er a hug and turned to watch his wife take the bat. “Sorry, Shelby. We seem to have turned this place on its ear.”

  “Jenny seems to have turned you on your ear,” Shelby said softly, and hugged him back. “I was wrong to be worried. She’s special, Mike.”

  “She… It’s only for a bit.”

  “It can be for as long as you like, as far as I’m concerned,” she told him gently. “If she makes my brother look like this.”

  After lunch, Lana and Dylan headed back to Lana’s store with Greg, and Shelby disappeared into the kitchen. Michael and Jen were left with the afternoon in front of them.

  “It’s only three,” Michael said. He frowned. He wasn’t used to spare time.

  “Socks will need a walk. You must have things to do. If you drop me off at home, then I’ll take him.”

  “Take him by yourself? You should put your feet up.”

  “I don’t want to.” Jenny flashed him a shy smile. “To be honest, I’ve had so much fun, I don’t want it to end.”

  And neither did he.

  So they drove home, unpacked their packages, held up each item for Socks’s approval-the only thing Socks was interested in was the foam ball-and then rigged up a leash and took their dog to the river.

  It was another gorgeous autumn afternoon. Socks greeted it with joy, but Jenny found the warm sun made her sleepy. She was tired. Michael had found an ordinary tennis ball and was throwing it for Socks, and after the tenth throw she sank onto a park bench and watched her husband and her dog wear themselves out.

  She felt at peace with the world. Gloria was gone, and she was safe now. Whatever she had to face in the future, Michael would be there with her.

  She was where she wanted to be.

  And she slept.

  “THAT’S IT, you stupid mutt. That’s one hundred and twenty-three runs-more than enough for any self-respecting dog. Home!” Michael caught Socks to him, attached the leash to his collar and turned-to find his wife soundly asleep on the park bench.

  Jenny.

  He stood for a long moment looking at her. She was still wearing that awful secretarial smock, and although this morning he’d found it reassuring, fitting her into the role he knew, suddenly he hated it. She was quite extraordinarily beautiful, and he no longer wanted to think of her as his secretary.