DADDY BY CHOICE

by Paula Detmer Riggs

  "But he didn't," she said, her voice hollow.

  "He did, Maddy. Drove up to your house in a new suit, his proposal all rehearsed. Claims he was even wearing a tie." Boyd grinned, shook his head. "It seems there was a party going on," he continued, his grin fading. "Your wedding reception. He arrived one day too late."

  Madelyn froze, her eyes locked on the daisy in her hand. Slowly she lifted her gaze. "I didn't know."

  "You weren't supposed to." Boyd smiled again, briefly this time. "He didn't give me all the details, but I gather he bought a bottle, drove to the first motel on the highway out of town and spent your wedding night getting blind drunk." He hesitated, then added a little gruffly, "Luke told me about your husband. I suspect it's a good thing Texas is so far away."

  She shifted her gaze to the other side of the picnic area where the others were gathered around the picnic table, preparing to cut the cake, she suspected. "All my life I've been trying to be what someone else wanted me to be. Except for those four days with Luke. With him I was … just me."

  "It's tearing him apart, Madelyn. Trying to ignore his feelings so that he can take care of you properly. He thinks he's handling it, but I've been where he is, and sooner or later he's going to blow wide open."

  Boyd's jaw was hard and his expression troubled. "When I couldn't save my first wife, I went a little crazy. Understandable, the shrinks said. Part of the grieving process. Except it was worse for me because saving people is what my life is all about. I think, if I'd been the one performing the C-section to try to save her, instead of Luke, I would never have been able to pull myself back after she died."

  Madelyn managed a shaky laugh. "I get the point."

  "I figured you would."

  She plucked one of the daisy's petals and wondered if she dared play the "Loves Me, Loves Me Not" game. "Luke's lucky to have a friend like you," she said when she realized he was watching her with worried eyes.

  "I like to think I'm your friend, too, Maddy."

  "I'd like to think that, too, Boyd."

  * * *

  "Sign here and here," Gladys ordered Luke, leaning forward to stab her pen at the X's on the bottom of the lease renewal for his office suite.

  He picked up his pen, then put it down. "I'm gonna hold off on this for now."

  Her eyebrows shot up. "You do realize your lease runs out at the end of next month, don't you?"

  He moved the lease to one side. "There's no hurry."

  "There's also a waiting list for space in this building."

  He gave her a warning look. "Anything else I need to sign?"

  "No." She glanced at her notebook. "Dr. Ybarra phoned to express his thanks for the consult last month. Lampson Pharmaceuticals wants to talk to you about the clinical trials for their new fertility drug, and Dr. MacAuley would like a return call at your earliest convenience. The rest of the messages are routine stuff."

  While Gladys stacked the reports and letters he'd already signed, he sifted through the stack of pink slips. On the bottom was a check made out to the Open Door Clinic. A quick scan of the amount and signature had him sighing.

  Two weeks after he'd taken Maddy on as a patient, the two of them had gone a few rounds about his fee. At first she hadn't believed him when he told her he never accepted more from personal acquaintances than their insurance coverage. After wrangling with him for a good ten minutes, she'd finally given in. What she hadn't done, he'd just come to realize, was accept his conditions. Instead, the little mule had donated her share to the clinic.

  "She must have put it on my desk after her appointment this morning," he said as he handed Gladys the check.

  A quick look had her grinning. "Guess it makes sense now, all the questions she asked about the clinic last time she was in. And no, I didn't tell her you were the private party who covered fifty percent of the operating costs, but I think she figured it out, anyway." Gladys tucked the check into one of the folders in the stack she'd brought with her before getting to her feet. "Anything else you need before I call it a day?" she asked at the same time the intercom buzzed.

  "Nope. Have a good weekend."

  "It'll be productive, anyway." She grimaced. "I'm painting the living room."

  Luke watched her go, then, tired to the bone, grabbed up the phone. "Yeah?" His voice came out too harsh and too impatient, and he winced.

  "Dr. Fabrizio on four." Dorie's stiff tone had him wanting to punch something. "Perhaps you recall ordering me to put her through the minute she returned your call?"

  "Sorry, Dor, I didn't mean to growl."

  "So what else is new these days?" she said before disconnecting.

  Feeling like a low-crawling worm, Luke picked up his pen and scrawled himself a note to buy Dorie a giant bag of chocolate-coated peanuts before punching line four.

  He'd been playing phone tag with psychotherapist Daniela Fabrizio for two solid days. The last time he'd seen her had been at her husband's funeral in May. White-faced and stoic, she'd accepted his condolences with her chin high, but he'd seen the agony in her eyes.

  She and Mark Fabrizio had grown up together in southern Oregon where both his family and hers made wine. He and their ten-year-old daughter, Lyssa, had been returning from a visit to his parents when a drunk driver had forced them into a bridge abutment. Mark had been killed instantly. Lyssa had survived, but her face had been severely scarred.

  "Hey, Danni, thanks for getting back to me."

  "Sorry it's taken so long. My youngest brother and his wife just had twins, and I took Lyssa down to Jacksonville to meet her new cousins."

  "How's she doing?"

  "Better. She still misses her dad, but we're coping." Daniela cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, her voice was brisk. "Your message said you wanted an unofficial consult?"

  "Yeah, a second-time mom, twenty-eight weeks. Her first was twenty-two years ago." He went on to describe Maddy's first pregnancy. "She was pretty torn up when she had to give up her daughter, and now she's terrified she'll lose this baby, too."

  "Understandable, under the circumstances. I'd be happy to talk to her if you think it would help, although I imagine she needs your reassurance more than mine."

  "I'm working on that, which is one of the reasons I asked for the consult. I've been doing some reading about delayed stress among adoptees and birth moms. From what I've picked up so far, opinion seems to be divided about the emotional benefits of the two meeting later in life versus the dangers of invading someone's privacy or stirring up buried angers. I'd like to know your thoughts."

  "Each case is different, Luke. I've known cases where the reunion precipitated great joy and healing, others where it only made the pain worse. So as I said, it depends on how eager each party is to make contact."

  "Very eager, I think. Though she promised never to actively search for her child, she put her name in the national database."

  "And the daughter? She's how old now?"

  "Almost twenty-two."

  "Old enough to make her own choices certainly, so that's a plus. Has she ever tried to contact the mom?"

  "Not to my knowledge, no." He swiveled his chair to the side and looked out at the rain-swollen clouds hanging over the hospital. "I had this idea that if Madelyn knew her daughter was happy and thriving and … didn't hate her for giving her up, it would ease her mind about the decision she'd made."

  "And what if the daughter isn't happy or thriving, or in fact does hate her, then what?"

  Then he wouldn't tell her, he thought as they said their goodbyes.

  Tucking the phone against his shoulder, he consulted his Rolodex for Case Randolph's private number at the precinct house. He caught Case as he was locking his desk drawer. Two minutes later he had the name of the best private investigator in the city.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  « ^ »

  Luke was late for his own party. Not that he realized it was a party, Madelyn hastily reminded herself as she glanced once more at
her watch. The hands had measured off no more than a minute since the last time she'd checked.

  Hovering between the MacAuleys' back and front doors, she wanted to pace, but now that she'd lost sight of her feet, she had a tendency to bump into things, so she vented some of her nerves by checking the party buffet spread out on Stacy's dining-room table.

  "Maybe I should call the hospital to see if he's tied up in a delivery," Prudy thought aloud, glancing at her watch. Tonight she was dressed in a lavender mini dress with emerald-and-silver art deco earrings. Next to the tiny nurse, Madelyn, in a yellow silk shirtdress and pearls felt like an overfed canary.

  She'd seen Luke only once since the twins' party, at her regular visit. It was then that Esther had mentioned the shirt his office staff had bought him for his birthday, which had come and gone ten days ago without anyone on Maternity Row knowing about it.

  The surprise party had been her idea and she'd orchestrated every detail. She wanted it to be perfect. She'd also wanted him to be surprised. It had been sheer luck the monthly poker game had already been scheduled for tonight.

  Everyone was there—the Randolphs, the Paxtons, even Detective Sergeant Don Petroff, Case Randolph's longtime partner and surrogate grandfather to Chloe and Lily. Teddy-bear gruff and endearingly homely, he reminded Madelyn of Doc, so of course they'd become instant friends.

  It had taken her longer to warm to Prudy's tough-cop husband. Bigger than most with a body worthy of a Playgirl centerfold even at forty-nine, Case had brought to mind a barely domesticated jaguar the first time Madelyn had laid eyes on him.

  After getting to know him better, however, she'd come to realize that his heart was about as soft as the kiss he now pressed to his younger daughter's auburn hair.

  "Daddy, when is Uncle Luke gonna get here so we can s'prise him?" three-year-old Lily asked as she turned her face up to his.

  "Soon, scooter," Case promised.

  Content, Lily stuck her thumb into her mouth and rubbed her cheek against her daddy's wide chest. Madelyn could almost hear Case melt. There was something especially poignant about a tough man so obviously in love with his own child, she thought, the pain of all that Luke had been denied stabbing through her.

  "Don't worry, Maddy, he'll be here," Stacy said with a quick glance at the front window where four-year-old Chloe was acting as lookout, peering through the curtains for Luke's Jeep.

  "Maybe we should have told him this was going to be a party for him," Madelyn worried aloud before glancing at her watch again.

  "Only if you wanted to make sure he didn't come anywhere near the place," Case said, smiling reassurance at her over Lily's bright curls. "Jarrod's not much for sentimental stuff."

  "That's because he's lived alone for so long," Prudy said, leaning over his shoulder to nibble her husband's ear. "Remember how grumpy you were before you came to your senses and married me again?"

  Case scowled, but his hand went up to cover Prudy's, trapping it against his shoulder. "Cops aren't grumpy, honey. We're laconic."

  Don grinned. "Damned straight."

  "Maybe you should call his beeper number," Stacy told Boyd over the sound of the twins' chattering.

  "He said he'd be here, Stace. Give him—"

  The portable phone atop an old-fashioned barrister's bookcase shrilled, and Stacy leaped to answer.

  "No, wait!" Prudy exclaimed before Stacy could punch the button. "It's poker night. Boyd should answer, or L.J. will wonder why you're still here."

  Stacy carried the phone to Boyd, then hovered at his shoulder. As Boyd listened, his grin faded. "Sure you can't shake loose?" Shifting his gaze to Madelyn's, he shook his head. "I understand. If you can't make it, you can't make it."

  The air seemed to go out of the room in one big whoosh as Boyd handed the phone back to Stacy. "Looks like we'll just have to go on with the party without the guest of honor."

  "But he has to come!" Tory cried, her eyes dark with dismay. "It's his party, with presents and everything."

  "Uncle Luke doesn't know that, peaches," Boyd reminded her. "He thinks it's just a regular poker game, remember? Daddy told him that because we wanted to surprise him."

  "Call him back and tell him it's really a party. Tell him Aunt Maddy made her special cake and we have ice cream and presents and fried chicken." Before Stacy could stop her, Tory snatched up the phone. "What's Uncle Luke's number, Mommy?"

  As Boyd and Stacy exchanged troubled looks, Madelyn felt a jolt of alarm. Next to her Prudy let out a small huff of air before staring down at her sequined sneakers. Madelyn was familiar enough with body language to feel distinctively uneasy.

  "Peaches, Uncle Luke had been working really hard and he needs his rest like Daddy does sometimes when I've been operating all night."

  "But—"

  "I'll tell you what, we'll just put the presents in the den and have the party next week," Stacy said quickly, her smile bright. "That way we'll get to have twice as much ice cream and cake."

  Tory grumbled, but Prudy placated her and the others by suggesting a videofest complete with predinner goodies. The walls shook with noise as the assorted offspring bumped and jostled one another on the way to the den while the adults set about refilling drinks and filling plates.

  It was ten minutes before Madelyn could corner Boyd alone in the kitchen where he'd gone to get Raine a glass of wine. "What gives, Boyd? Why did everyone look so uneasy after Luke called?"

  Boyd dug in a drawer for a corkscrew. "I don't know, Maddy. Disappointment, maybe?"

  "No, it was more than that." She studied his face. It was expressionless. Not a good sign. "Is it me? Is that what you're trying not to tell me? That he never comes around anymore and you're blaming me?"

  His head came up. "Absolutely not! You can put that right out of your mind."

  "Then what is it you're not telling me?"

  "Just that he's been looking kinda tired lately, that's all."

  Madelyn heard the truth in his voice, but she also saw the tension in his jaw. She doubted that Boyd would deliberately lie to her, but she suspected he wasn't telling her the entire truth, either.

  "It's his back, isn't it? Because of the riding?" Boyd concentrated on drawing the cork and pouring wine before turning to face her. His gray eyes were sympathetic—and hooded. "Whatever it is, he's handling it."

  "It's serious. I can see it in your eyes."

  Boyd dropped his gaze, a tiny muscle ticking violently in his jaw. "Even if it is, it's not something I can discuss with you, so please don't ask."

  "But I can discuss it," Stacy said as she reached Madelyn's side.

  Boyd's gray eyes narrowed ominously. "Stace, don't."

  "Don't glare at me, Boyd. Prudy told me what happened, not you, so I'm not breaking your confidence."

  Boyd sighed. "Don't expect me to protect you if the man explodes at you the next time he sees you," he muttered before picking up Raine's glass.

  Stacy reached up to rub her finger over the furrows in his brow. "Don't worry, sweetheart. If I can handle you in one of your tempers, I can handle Luke."

  One side of his mouth curled up before he leaned down to brush a kiss over her smile. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he told her before disappearing into the dining room. Stacy watched him for a moment, then returned her gaze to Madelyn's face, her fond smile fading.

  "What doesn't Luke want me to know?" Madelyn asked, her voice thin.

  "About six weeks ago his leg just gave out on him and he folded up in the OR. Boyd's afraid if he doesn't have surgery soon, he might end up damaging himself irreparably."

  Madelyn drew in a sharp breath. "What exactly do you mean by irreparably?"

  Stacy hesitated, then sighed. "Worst-case scenario, he could end up paralyzed for life."

  "Oh, my God." Madelyn felt the blood drain from her face, and she groped for the edge of the counter to steady her wobbly legs. "I had no idea."

  "He threatened both Boyd and Prudy with grievous bodily harm if they breathe
d a word to you or anyone else. Prue had already told me about Luke's canceling the surgery, so—"

  "What surgery?"

  "Apparently Boyd had him talked into having the disks repaired. After he saw you in his office, he called and canceled."

  Madelyn was stunned. That he would do that for her was almost more than she could handle. "Damn him," she whispered. "I could just … just—"

  "Throw your arms around him and kiss him for caring about you and the baby enough to risk so much?" Stacy suggested blandly.

  "Something like that," Madelyn muttered, glancing around for her purse. "After I give him a piece of my mind."

  * * *

  Luke lay on his back trying not to breathe any more deeply than he had to. After he'd phoned Boyd, he'd given in to the scalding agony and swallowed two of the powerful painkillers he used only when he wasn't on call. So far they'd done little more than make his head fuzzy and his gut queasy.

  Dumb ass that he was, he'd known better than to spur Molly into a gallop, especially over rough ground, but he'd been hurting too much to care. By the time he'd left the stables last Saturday he'd been hard-pressed to stand up straight enough to walk to his Jeep. Spending the rest of the weekend flat on his back had staved off crippling spasms, but the tortured muscles were still giving him fits.

  A hectic week hadn't helped, but he'd hung in okay. Just as he'd been congratulating himself on skating through, he'd gotten a call from the ER. A three-car pileup on I-5 had resulted in multiple injuries. One of the worst was an expectant mom with belly trauma. That both mom and baby had survived was a miracle in itself. That the crash hadn't brought on labor was even more miraculous.

  Six hours of surgery had saved the mom's life without precipitating premature labor. By the time he'd left the OR, his leg was hurting so badly it had been all he could do to drive himself home.

  He'd fallen asleep in the Jacuzzi, then jerked awake when the nightmare had hit again—the sweat-soaked stomach-knotting one where Maddy was screaming his name as some man in black tore their baby from her arms. He hoped to hell the narcotic pumping through his system would keep the bad dreams away. At least for a couple of hours anyway.