That didn’t mean he had to give up her company. Being around her centered him and gave him strength. Besides, it might be useful to have a trained counselor on hand if matters got touchy in San Diego.
After hesitating longer than he’d intended, Quent decided to accept her offer. “Thanks,” he said. “Let’s go take our leave of Natalie and Patrick.”
“I’ll tell them,” Noreen volunteered. “I heard enough to know it’s an emergency. They’ll understand.”
“You’re a sweetheart,” Amy said.
“Hold on.” Dr. Fingger was wearing his I’m-in-charge-here scowl. “Aren’t you on call?”
“Nope,” Quent said. He’d double-checked the bulletin board the day before.
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Noreen burst out. “If he is, I volunteer you to cover for him, Dudley.”
“That hadn’t occurred to me,” Dr. Fingger said. “All right, Quent. I’ll check with the hospital. If it turns out you’re mistaken, I’ll have the calls forwarded to me.”
“I appreciate it.” After they left the room, Quent said, “If I were on call, I’d know it. I don’t take things like that lightly.”
“I doubt Dr. Fingger meant to insult you,” Amy said. “He strikes me as a person who has trouble trusting anyone but himself.”
“Well, it was nice of him to offer to cover for me, even though he won’t have to,” Quent said. “And even though Noreen badgered him into it.”
“She’s good at that.” Amy shot him a grin. “She nudges people to do what’s right, and she usually gets her way.”
They hurried through the crowd, out the front door and down the driveway to where Quent had left his SUV. He’d been lucky to find a space in Patrick’s private parking area. Most of the guests had had to leave their cars across the street at Doctors Circle.
Before hitting the road, Quent dialed Lucy’s number. To his relief, a young woman answered with a tentative, “Hello?”
“Is this Jenny?” Eager as he was to get moving, he preferred not to talk on the phone while driving.
“Uh, yes.”
“This is the children’s uncle, Dr. Ladd.” He used his title when he wanted to impress people or intimidate them, as he did now. “My nephew called and said you left them alone.”
“I forgot to take out my mom’s trash like she told me and I knew she’d get mad, so I ran out for a minute.” She sounded defensive. “I just live downstairs.”
“It was long enough for Tara to get scared and start crying.” Quent fought to keep his tone level, although his temper was rising.
“I saw my best friend outside and she had this big problem with her boyfriend and needed my advice. The kids were okay. I left them watching TV,” Jenny said.
“Do you have any idea what can happen to a small child in a minute or two?” Briefly, he outlined some of the near-tragedies he’d seen as a doctor. “You will not let them out of your sight until Lucy gets back, is that understood?”
“Okay. I’m sorry,” the girl said. Apparently he’d finally gotten through to her.
“I’m on my way there now.” Quent put the car into gear. “If I find the children unattended, I’ll have to call the police.”
“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir, they won’t be alone.”
“I’ll see you soon.” He didn’t want her to know how long it would take, or she might duck out again.
“I’m glad she came back,” Amy said after he hung up.
“Yes, but this situation can’t go on,” Quent said. “Although Lucy’s done her best, I’m afraid she bit off more than she can chew. This baby-sitter is obviously unqualified.” He whipped onto St. Michel Drive, then drove as fast as the speed limit allowed up Serene Boulevard toward the freeway.
“When you said the children lived with their aunt, I pictured someone older,” Amy said. “I gather that’s not the case.”
“She’s twenty-six.” Calmer now, Quent told her about the accident and how Lucy had been the only family member to volunteer a home. “It must have been hard, even with a day-care center at work, to raise a baby and a toddler. She’s a kindhearted person and I know she loves them, but she wasn’t prepared.”
“Apparently she loves running on the weekends,” Amy said. “How did she manage until now?”
“She gave up running for a while,” Quent said. “A few months ago, she told me she couldn’t stand it any more. She should have found a good sitter first.”
“She still might. This may be a transition period until she lands the right person.”
Quent shook his head. “Already there’ve been two worrisome incidents. If Lucy isn’t willing to give up running…” He let the words trail off as he reached the freeway and hit the gas.
“What are the options?” Amy asked. “It might be wise to prepare some suggestions before we get there.”
“You’re right. I’ll think about it.” He appreciated her logical approach. Although Quent had nerves of steel when it came to emergencies at work, it was different when the situation involved people he loved.
“While you’re thinking, I’m going to take a nap.” Amy settled back, couldn’t get comfortable in her hat, and finally tossed it into the back seat.
Unrestrained, dark hair spilled across her shoulders, while the turquoise dress brought out the freshness of her skin. What a lovely face she had, Quent mused.
At church, she’d been far and away the most beautiful woman walking down the aisle, not that he’d expected anyone else to recognize that fact when there was a bride to admire. In a way, he’d cherished being the one who appreciated her most.
The sexy, womanly sway to her movements had made him want to carry her off to a private place where they could resume their embrace. But it was best if they didn’t. How long could magic last? he wondered. Perhaps forever, if you never forced it down to earth.
To help him concentrate on the road, Quent tuned the radio to a country station they both liked, then settled into a rhythm of driving. The freeway stretched for miles through the Orange County landscape with its gently rolling hills, shopping centers and fanned-out housing developments.
Soon they were passing the exits to San Juan Capistrano and San Clemente. As they left the thickest traffic behind and entered San Diego County, Quent allowed himself to acknowledge the idea that had been tickling the back of his mind.
He wanted to take charge of Tara and Greg. A year ago, as a neonatology resident sharing an apartment with two other men, he hadn’t even considered it. Also, for months after the tragedy, he’d buried himself in work. It had been his way of keeping the universe from spinning out of control.
Now he had a steady job and had grown much stronger emotionally. More than that, he’d come to love Tara and Greg. Their personalities and their development fascinated him.
They’d popped into his mind frequently this week. He’d stopped at a toy store and bought several gifts, which were tucked beneath the back seat of his SUV. He’d caught himself noticing the layout of playgrounds at nearby parks and had clipped a newspaper article about the best schools in the area.
He wanted to give the children a home where they would be safe. He wanted to guide them through childhood and adolescence, to provide the stability and the love that they deserved.
Of course, he didn’t mean to fight Lucy for custody. He had to give her a chance to keep the children if she were willing to make changes. If not, he hoped she’d listen to reason.
Having chosen a course of action, Quent turned his attention to practical matters. “Do you know anything about day care in our area?” he asked.
Amy’s eyelids fluttered open. “My aunt runs a licensed home center.”
“What about preschools?” he asked.
“My aunt’s mentioned a good one near her,” she said. “She drives one of her kids there and back in the mornings. Why?”
“Because I intend to take Greg and Tara, if Lucy will let me.”
His wor
ds hung in the air for several seconds. “That’s quite a decision,” Amy said. “Are you sure you’ve considered all the angles?”
“Are you implying that I’m impulsive?” Quent replied, half teasing.
“Impulsive? Well, let’s see.” Amy assumed a mock-serious attitude. “There was the time you came to work dressed as a pirate and announced that you planned to wear costumes to the clinic until Halloween. Which, as I recall, was three weeks off.”
“That was a bit over the top, I admit.” Quent had done it mostly to annoy his former supervisor, Dr. Sorrell. He’d succeeded.
“Then there’s the Ping-Pong table in your living room,” she said.
“What could be more practical than having recreational facilities right in my own home?” Quent joked.
“How old are these children again? I forget,” Amy said.
“Greg’s four. Tara’s fifteen—no, sixteen months now,” he said.
“They won’t even be able to reach the Ping-Pong table,” she pointed out.
“They can stand on stepstools. Or I’ll get rid of it.”
They passed through the open expanse of Camp Pendleton, with the Pacific Ocean shining to their right. At last, Amy said, “You’re serious about this?”
“Yes.” An alarm sounded in Quent’s mind at the immense task he’d be taking on, but he reminded himself of how much the kids needed him.
He would always fear the nearness of an abyss, the one he’d sensed the other night when Amy nearly fell into the harbor. Certainly he would never forget the shock of losing his mother, brother and sister-in-law. He had to protect the children, no matter what it cost him.
For all his playful self-indulgences, Quent recognized that the time had come to put others’ needs first. In a sense, he’d been preparing for this for a long time. The desire to make his life count for something, to be of use, had inspired him to go to medical school, and it came to the fore now.
“I’m afraid I won’t be free to play video games and hang out as much as I used to,” he said. “I hope you won’t take this personally.”
“Personally?” Amy glowered at him. “Quentin Ladd, do you think I’m going to be offended because you want to take in two orphaned children?”
“When you put it that way, I guess not.” Her indignation gave him new hope. “We can all schedule play dates together.”
“Play dates?” Amy glared even harder. “Someone will have to watch them when you’re working evenings or weekends. Not that I have much experience with children, but I can do that.”
He wanted to hug her and hold her close. Quent had never expected this much generosity, not even from his best friend. “I’ll take all the help I can get,” he said. “You’d be a lifesaver.”
“It’s essential for a parent to have a backup,” Amy said. “That’s what Lucy lacks.”
“That, and an understanding of the children’s long-term needs.” He recalled Lucy’s casual attitude about preschool.
“Do you?” Amy challenged.
“I’ll get one.”
The more he thought about it, the more excited he grew. Quent knew parenthood could be exhausting, but it was challenging and miraculous, too.
With Amy at his side, they’d not only manage, they would triumph. His imagination leaped ahead to picnics on the beach and trips to Disneyland. Well, maybe he’d hold off on the amusement park until the kids got older, but there were lots of other fun things to do.
And they’d mean a whole lot more with Amy around.
He’d learn to cook nutritious food. Stock up on children’s books. Hide the TV remote control so they could only watch educational shows. Of course, that meant he couldn’t watch kung-fu movies except late at night, but he’d manage.
There might be a hitch or two along the way. It was nothing he couldn’t overcome with his best friend’s help.
AMY HOPED Quent wasn’t making a mistake. The last thing two orphaned children needed was to be bounced from one home to another and then not have it work out.
She knew he’d do his best. But she doubted a bachelor like him had any idea of what lay ahead.
Even Amy, despite her training in family counseling, lacked practical experience. She was game to learn, though. With Heather becoming a mother and a grandmother at the same time, Amy knew who to go to for advice on diaper-changing and baby-sitting.
There was another point she couldn’t ignore. Sharing the children should bring Quent and her closer. It might help him get past whatever emotional block was holding him back.
Still, she hadn’t offered her help with any ulterior motive. She intended to fulfill her promise regardless of whether matters between them remained at the casual level.
Amy studied Quent’s profile, silhouetted against the late-afternoon sunlight. There was a new maturity in the way he held himself, she thought, as if the prospect of fatherhood was already toning down his wilder side.
She vowed silently to do her best to make sure this new arrangement, if Lucy agreed to it, worked out happily for everyone.
“I’M SORRY, but I can’t let you have them,” Lucy told Quent.
They were sitting in her kitchen, drinking herbal tea. Amy sat at one end of the table, listening without saying much.
By the time Quent and Amy had arrived twenty minutes earlier, Lucy had returned and Jenny was long gone. The children, after joyfully greeting their uncle, had retreated to their shared bedroom with their new toys.
According to Lucy, the sitter had given a version of events in which she merely poked her head out the door for a minute. Even when Quent explained that Jenny had earlier admitted going outside and chatting with a girlfriend, all Lucy had said was, “No harm done. I know the girl means well.”
As diplomatically as possible, Quent had proposed that the children come to live with him. He could swear he’d seen relief flash across Lucy’s face, yet, maddeningly, she was refusing.
“I know you love them,” he said. “And no one admires what you’ve done more than I do. But it’s obviously hard on you. And I’d really like to have them.”
“There’s no point in talking about it.” Lucy folded her hands in front of her. “Things are fine the way they are.”
“Do you plan to continue running on Saturdays? You can’t keep using pickup sitters.” Quent struggled to use a nonjudgmental tone. The last thing he intended was to offend her. “Look at the problems that you…that we’ve had recently.”
“Jenny’s eager to do it and she’s learning. She won’t leave them again.” Lucy’s tone verged on snappish. “There’s no reason for you to march in here and try to take over.”
Quent was about to argue when he caught a warning glance from Amy. Family counseling was her territory, so he held back.
“May I ask you something?” Amy said to Lucy.
“Sure, I guess.”
“I get the impression you’re holding something back, perhaps out of politeness. That there’s an additional reason why you don’t feel right about accepting Quent’s offer,” she said. “It might clear the air if you could tell him what it is.”
“You’re pretty sharp,” Lucy said. “That’s true, but…” She stopped.
“Go on,” Amy said.
“He might get mad.”
“If you’re going to say I haven’t contributed as much as you think I should, that’s okay,” Quent said. “I admit I could have done more.”
“That’s not it.” Lucy drummed her fingers on the scarred surface of the table. “It’s something my sister said.”
“Paula?” Quent didn’t know the two women had ever discussed him. “What did she tell you?”
“Nothing bad. I mean, it was personal.” Lucy cleared her throat. “This is kind of embarrassing.”
“Would you prefer if he left the room and you told it to me?” Amy said.
Lucy considered, then shook her head. “No, it’s okay. See, a few years ago, I had kind of a crush on Quent.”
“You did?” He’d
never had a clue about it. Before the tragedy, he had only a vague recollection of meeting Lucy at his brother’s wedding and on a few family occasions.
“Sure, the handsome doctor and all that.” Lucy waved one hand, dismissing her girlish fantasies. “Then Paula gave me a talking-to. She said you were a playboy, not the kind of a man I could rely on.”
“At the time, she was right,” Quent conceded. “I put all my energy into my studies. When it came to my private life, I just looked for a party.”
“I’m not sure Paula would have liked her children to be raised by a single father,” Lucy explained. “And I’m sure she wouldn’t have approved of you. Even though recently you seem to have changed.”
From her words, Quent sensed that, underneath, Lucy wanted him to convince her. She’d already admitted that he’d changed. Now he had to give her a good reason to believe her sister would have chosen him to raise Greg and Tara.
He had to do it now. This window of opportunity, of sharing confidences, was going to close. If he couldn’t persuade Lucy to trust him today, her resolve might harden and he would never succeed.
All of a sudden, he knew how to convince her. He had to do it for the children’s sakes, even though it was a risk. Act now, deal with the consequences later. That was another of Quent’s mottos.
“I suppose Amy and I shouldn’t keep you in the dark any longer,” he said. “We want you to be the first to know. We’re getting married.”
There was a moment’s silence. At the end of the table, Amy sat frozen with her tea mug in one hand.
“Really? That’s fantastic!” Lucy’s face brightened. “If you’re going to be married, that’s another story entirely.”
Quent tried to catch Amy’s eye to send her a visual plea for cooperation. It would be too bad if honesty forced her to contradict what he’d said.
They’d be raising the children together, as they’d already agreed. Maybe they could even share quarters, since it would be more practical for her to watch the children that way.
As soon as the possibility entered his mind, he seized on it. What could be better than moving in with his best friend? It would be good for him and good for the youngsters.
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