“He’s the key to the mystery,” Anne said, and the literal truth in her words caused her to frown.
“Anne, I don’t like this. You hardly know this guy and you’ve gone and married him. This isn’t like you at all.”
And didn’t she know it. “It’s only temporary, Fred. Just until this thing with the baby gets sorted out.”
“Look, I’ve got vacation coming,” Fred said. “I can be there in a few hours. Just say the word.”
“Thanks, Fred, but no. I’ve turned off my cell phone. You have the number here now. Call if there’s any news. If all goes well, I should be back in the Berkshires in a few days.”
“And if all doesn’t go well?” Fred asked.
“Have faith, Fred. That’s what I’m operating on.”
Anne hung up the phone, feeling a great deal less lighthearted than she had at the beginning of her conversation. Fred’s words keep ringing in her ears. You hardly know the guy.
It many ways, it was the truth. And yet in other ways she felt as though she had known Tom forever. Especially after the night they had spent in each other’s arms.
That totally unbelievable night.
It was Tom’s thoughtfulness, his total focus on her pleasure that undid Anne every time. She’d never realized what a boring, self-focused lover Bill had been.
She had no doubt now that what was inside a man came out in his lovemaking. And what was inside Tom was nothing short of magic.
Still, she was operating on faith.
Faith that Tom was telling her the truth. Faith that Tommy was his. Faith that Tom’s need to keep silent about Tommy’s mother was worth his secrecy.
What if she were wrong?
“Why the frown?” Tom asked as he stepped into the bedroom with Tommy in his arms.
Anne looked up from her thoughts. Tom’s thick, straight hair was totally mussed, mostly from her eager hands. A golden stubble lined his chin. He was wearing nothing but light-blue briefs on his lean body. She didn’t think she’d ever get over the pleasure of seeing the muscles bunch beneath his naked bronze skin.
Tom read the changing expression on Anne’s face and smiled. She had gone from looking worried to watching him with that unconscious intensity that had driven him wild the first moment he saw it.
He was beside her in the bed in a flash, setting the baby in her lap and reaching for her.
“We have to get up, Tom,” Anne protested, then sighed as he kissed that lovely, long, sensitive neck of hers.
“I thought you might want to try Tommy on your breast again,” Tom coaxed as he delicately brushed his fingers across her already peaking nipples poking above the sheets.
“You think that’s going to work, do you?”
There was a dare in her eyes and defiance in her tone, but the quickening of her breath belied both.
“Shall we see?” he asked, gently taking her mouth with his and drawing the sheets away. She sighed with pleasure as she pulled him to her.
* * *
“WE LOST A WHOLE DAY,” Anne lamented as she and Tom entered the offices of the Bureau of Health Statistics in Dorchester the next morning.
The light danced in Tom’s eyes. “Anne, the last thing I would call a day spent in bed with you is lost.”
Anne glanced down at Tommy to hide the color rising to her cheeks. The baby was looking around, bright eyed and very alert. His color was back to normal, as was his temperature.
“The rest was probably good for Tommy,” she acquiesced. “He seems so much better today.”
“That’s because the love you give him is even more important than breast milk.”
Anne couldn’t help but smile. Tom always seemed to know the right thing to say to her. And do to her. What she had learned about lovemaking over the last twenty-four hours could fill more volumes than all the law books in her office library.
Until she met Tom, she hadn’t known what sensuality really meant. Or pleasure. If it had been up to him, they would probably be spending today in bed, as well. It hadn’t been easy convincing him otherwise. Or herself.
Still, the very practical side of her had to admit that she could now suckle Tommy on either breast without the slightest discomfort. As long as Tom kissed or touched her first. And she loved the way Tommy fell into such a peaceful sleep after being at her breast.
Thoughts of Tommy brought Anne’s focus back to the task at hand. They had to learn about this baby that Shrubber claimed was Tommy. And why Shrubber would make such a claim when Tom said otherwise.
Anne studied their surroundings. She could see that the county office had limited personnel, all clearly swamped with paperwork.
“I could introduce myself as a judge and see if that will speed things up,” Anne said as she contemplated the long waiting line in front of them. “Thing is, I’m out of my jurisdiction here and I can’t pretend that this is an official inquiry.”
“Why don’t you sit over there,” Tom said, pointing to some chairs. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Anne understood he had worn his clerical garb and white collar today in the hope of facilitating their investigation.
She nodded and sat down with Tommy on her lap. He was such a bundle of energy this morning. He’d already pulled the top button off her blouse. She had only just saved him from swallowing it. She had few blouses left now without one or two buttons missing. She should have brought along a sewing kit.
But he was so cute she couldn’t mind. He reached up, pulled her bangs and giggled. It was so wonderful to see him well and happy. Every time she thought about how close Shrubber had come to taking away this sweet child, it gave her a small chill. Tommy belonged with Tom. She was sure of it.
And with his mother?
She sighed. The reality of Tommy’s mother was a wedge between Anne and the baby. And Tom. She was certain Tom did not love the mother of his child. He’d told her that he had never proposed to a woman before her—or wanted to. Anne believed him. But what was his relationship with the mother of his child? And why was it such a big secret?
Anne was used to facing problems squarely and dealing with them. But this woman’s presence in their lives was like an ominous shadow. And only Tom was capable of bringing her into the light. Would he?
Tom’s clerical collar, patience and courtesy won over the harried clerk who finally waited on him. Despite the fact that he couldn’t provide the place or precise date of birth, she continued to search her database until the right record had been retrieved.
When Tom brought a certified copy of the birth certificate over to Anne, he sat beside her and they went over it together.
Anne quickly skimmed through the facts. “Birth date January 5. Four-fifteen in the morning. Delivered by a Dr. Martin Faust. The baby was born in a South Boston hospital?”
“Something about that disturbs you, Anne?”
“Andy told us the Kendralls live on Beacon Hill. Why would Heather Kendrall have gone all the way to South Boston to deliver her baby?”
“I see what you’re saying. You don’t think it’s possible she could have been away from home, gone into labor and been rushed to the nearest hospital?”
“Maybe,” Anne said, but she wasn’t convinced. “Let’s go to that South Boston hospital where she delivered. Any thoughts as to how we can get confidential information out of hospital personnel?”
“Not off the top of my head,” Tom admitted. “But something tells me you do.”
“I have an idea that might work,” she said.
Tom watched the light dancing in her eyes. It was invigorating working with someone whose mind was so quick. And whose heart was so warm. He had fallen in love with Anne in ways that weren’t remotely romantic, and yet were so much richer and real.
How much he wanted to tell her what wa
s in his heart. But he knew it was still too soon to say the words. All he could do was continue to show her.
* * *
THE HOSPITAL TURNED out to be small and private. Anne hopped out of the car, eager to get started. Tom stayed behind to change the baby, and arranged to meet her later in the lobby. She had told Tom what she was going to do and he’d kissed her cheek, telling her she was brilliant.
Anne had never felt so accepted or appreciated for who she was.
Tom didn’t try to control her as the other men in her life had. He controlled himself. His deep confidence had him applauding her accomplishments, not placing himself in petty competition with them.
He was the first man she’d ever met who didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. He not only knew exactly who he was, he was totally comfortable with who he was.
She had been drawn to those qualities in him from the first, and with every passing second, she grew to appreciate them even more.
Anne entered the hospital and proceeded to the gift shop, where she bought a spring bouquet of irises, lilies, tulips and daisies. She then took the elevator to the maternal-newborn suite.
It was quiet on the floor. No expecting parents were in the waiting room. Anne approached the nurse who manned the central station, a stout woman somewhere in her forties, with rimless glasses and a busy air. The name tag on her lapel said Google.
Anne sent her a smile. “Hi. I’ve come to thank a nurse who took care of a new mother who delivered here recently. Can you help me?”
“What’s the nurse’s name?” Google asked in a clipped, quick tone.
“That’s the problem,” Anne said. “I don’t know.”
“Well, then, I don’t see how I can help you.”
“I thought maybe you could check the records to see who assisted the doctor,” Anne said. “It would be in there, wouldn’t it?”
Google didn’t really want to do that. It was written all over her face. But Anne was smiling and holding up the bouquet of flowers, and it was clear that the nurse felt the pressure to at least try to be helpful.
“All right,” she said, moving over to the computer. “What’s the name of your friend?”
“Heather Kendrall.”
Google typed in the name, then waited until the computer retrieved the information. “Kendrall delivered on the morning of January 5,” she said in a tone that had definitely turned sour. “And you’re just now deciding to thank the nurse?”
Anne smiled brilliantly. “Oh, wonderful. You found the record. What’s her name?”
Google wore a lemon-sucking look on her face. “Ronley.”
“And where may I find Nurse Ronley?” Anne asked.
“She’s not here.”
“May I reach her at her home?”
“I can’t give out that information.”
“Can you at least tell me when she’ll next be on duty?”
“She’s Faust’s private nurse. She works on his schedule.”
“Is Dr. Faust here?” Anne asked.
“Nope.” Google was clearly getting tired of answering questions.
“Do you expect him anytime soon?” Anne persisted.
“He’s only here when his patients check in to deliver. Babies don’t get born on schedules.”
Anne hid her irritation at the nurse’s condescending tone as she thanked her. So much for her sleuthing skills. She was thoroughly disappointed as she walked toward the elevators to return to the lobby.
“Excuse me?” a female voice called from behind her.
Anne stopped and turned to see a young nurse’s aide approaching. She was in her late teens, with short, curly brown hair and a sweet smile. The name tag on her lapel said Lambert.
“Hi, I’m Bev,” the nurse’s aide said. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with Google-puss...uh, I mean—”
“Google-puss fits her perfectly,” Anne assured her.
Bev giggled. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I was there, too, on the night your friend came in, and she was real nice to me. She even gave me this locket.”
The young woman held up a gold-plated locket hanging from a gold chain around her neck. The locket was engraved with the letter L.
Anne smiled. Maybe luck was with her, after all. “Bev, these flowers are for you,” she said, handing them to the nurse’s aide. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee or a soft drink or something?”
Bev took the flowers from her hand, looking thoroughly pleased. “Yeah, well sure. I was just going on my break. Thanks.”
Five minutes later they were in the cafeteria, Anne with a tall glass of water—per her lactation instructions—and Bev with a giant Diet Coke and a plate of French fries.
“I’m sure her doctor picked this hospital,” Bev said in answer to a question Anne had just asked. “Faust always brings his patients here to deliver.”
“So Heather wasn’t rushed here or anything?” Anne asked.
“Hardly. She had already been in labor for nearly six hours when I came on shift at eleven that night,” Bev said between bites. “But she was real good about the pain, joking around and stuff. Some of the women. Whew! Do they scream.”
“What else do you remember about that night, Bev?” Anne asked.
“I wasn’t in the delivery room, but I got to see Heather and her baby when they rolled her back to her room. She looked so happy with her little boy in her arms. First thing she said to me was that he had his daddy’s hair and eyes.”
“His daddy’s hair,” Anne repeated, remembering what Andy had said about Rolan Kendrall’s toupee.
“Well, yeah, she had all that long, curly red hair and the baby had that straight patch of blond.”
She had red hair? But Anne could have sworn Andy had said Heather Kendrall was a blond beauty.
“And her little boy had just the bluest eyes you ever did see,” Bev said. “I know they say that all newborns have blue eyes. But it’s not true. I’ve seen lots of ’em born with brown and even black.”
“Did Heather’s husband ever visit her in the hospital?” Anne asked.
“I don’t know. Only man I ever saw her with was the male nurse who works for Dr. Faust.”
“What’s his name?” Anne asked.
“A huge guy with black hair and a really squeaky voice. He’s not the kind you ask.”
Bender? Anne’s heart started to race right along with her speculations.
“Heather and me, we talked about rock groups and just all kinds of cool stuff,” Bev related. “You would never know she was so old... I mean, so much older. Only that big male nurse kept telling me to get lost every time I tried to come by to say hello.”
“Bev, the locket that Heather gave you. Did she get it in the gift shop?”
“No, she was wearing it when she came in.”
Anne had begun to suspect as much.
“She gave it to me on the afternoon after she delivered, while I helped her walk up and down the hall,” Bev continued. “She was asking me about the nurse’s entrance and exit to the parking lot. Of course, I didn’t know why at the time.”
“You didn’t know why she gave you the locket?” Anne asked, confused.
“Oh, I know she gave me the locket because she liked me and knew the L was the first letter of my last name. It was her wanting to know about the back way out of the hospital that I didn’t get at first.”
“How do you mean?”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what, Bev?”
“She lit out the back exit that night with her baby when the nurse brought him for a feeding,” Bev said. “Didn’t even bother waiting for her doctor to check her out. Just took off. That male nurse and her doctor were really ticked, I can tell you.”
&nb
sp; * * *
ANNE HURRIED THROUGH the hospital lobby, looking for Tom and the baby. She had so much to share with him. But she couldn’t see him or Tommy anywhere. Finally, she approached the gray-haired receptionist at the admissions desk.
“Excuse me, I was supposed to meet a priest—”
“Are you Anne?” the receptionist interrupted.
“Yes,” she said, surprised to be addressed by her name.
“Father Christen was called to the bedside of a dying man in intensive care. He asked if you’d meet him there. It’s just around the corner to your right. Go straight down the hall. You’ll see the signs for the family waiting room.”
Anne thanked the receptionist and headed down the hall. When she reached the waiting room, she found a couple in their sixties sitting together, softly crying.
On the woman’s lap was Tommy. He, too, was crying, but not so softly. Anne went directly up to the woman.
“I’m Anne,” she said, reaching for Tommy.
“Oh,” the woman said, immediately relinquishing the baby.
Anne held Tommy close to her. He clutched her as though he had feared she had abandoned him. She knew Tom wouldn’t have let the baby out of his arms if it hadn’t been necessary, but she still hated the thought of Tommy being in a stranger’s hands, even for a few minutes.
Tommy obviously wasn’t too thrilled about it, either. Anne cuddled him, stroked his head and talked soothingly to him until he quieted. Then she took the vacant chair beside the weeping woman.
“Where’s Father Christen?” Anne asked softly.
“He’s in with our son,” the man said.
So, it was this couple’s son who was dying. Anne wished she knew what she could say to these distraught parents, but she had no words.
“We never knew!” the woman sobbed, her distress so intense that it welled and overflowed, like the tears streaming out of her eyes. “How could we have guessed what he had done?”
Anne understood that the woman wasn’t really talking to her. The man wrapped his arm around his wife, holding him to her as tears flooded his face, as well. “Sweetheart, we got him the priest. It’s all we could do. The rest is up to him.”
Cradle and All Page 17
