Prognosis: A Baby? Maybe

by Jacqueline Diamond

  The baby lay curled on the rug, one cheek resting on her arm. A blissful expression transformed her from an active little girl into an angel.

  Pride urged Heather to carry through her threat to depart. Common sense disagreed. “I ought to…”

  “Have you looked out the window lately?” asked her cheerful tormenter. “It’s like one of those fabled Russian white nights you hear about. Surely you’re not going to drag us all down the mountainside in a raging blizzard?”

  “You planned it this way,” she accused, keeping her voice low for the baby’s sake.

  “That’s right, I’m in cahoots with the weather,” Jason teased. Did he have to look so relaxed, sitting with his arms circling his knees while the fire crackled?

  “If you’re expecting a repeat of what happened in Atlanta…”

  “Nothing happened in Atlanta,” he said. “Isn’t that right?”

  “It nearly did.”

  “How nearly?”

  “If you still don’t remember, I’m not providing any more blow-by-blow descriptions,” Heather snapped. “Since you stranded us here, I presume you plan to cook dinner.”

  “Of course. I volunteered, didn’t I?” He sounded less than enthusiastic, though.

  Sinking onto the sofa, she indulged in a stretch. “Since, according to you, we’re on vacation, I’ll be taking a nap. Wake me when the food’s ready. I’d prefer salmon to steak tonight.”

  Something akin to panic fleeted across his darkly handsome face. “No problem. Just tell me how to do it.”

  “Poach it or bake it or broil it, I don’t care.” Heather gave an exaggerated yawn, barely remembering in time to cover her mouth. “How about the scalloped potatoes and a salad with it? Sounds good to me.” She lowered her lids.

  She didn’t actually mean to fall asleep, but when she opened her eyes again, Ginger was sitting in the playpen hugging her teddy bear while mouthwatering smells drifted from the kitchen.

  Heather checked her watch. She’d been dead to the world for more than half an hour.

  For a confused moment, she wondered if Alexei and Lisa had arrived. Then she remembered that not only weren’t they coming, they’d never planned on it in the first place.

  She almost got angry, except for the evidence that Jason had been working hard while she’d rested. He’d moved Ginger into the safety of the playpen and, judging by the smells, he’d figured out how to cook the meal, too.

  Lazily, Heather rose and ambled into the kitchen. His back to her, Jason hummed as he fixed a salad at the counter. On the stove steamed several covered pots.

  A laptop computer on the table displayed a recipe for poached salmon. Heather couldn’t help being amused at how resourceful Jason had been, going on-line for help rather than waking her.

  “Where’d you learn to cook?” she asked.

  He tossed a handful of diced cucumber into the salad, then turned to caress her with his gaze. “I hope you slept well.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Belatedly wondering what she must look like, Heather ran a hand through her tousled hair.

  “As for the cooking, I picked up a bit here and there,” Jason said. “The best I can say for my technique is, I know how to follow a recipe.”

  “I wondered if your fiancée taught you.” Heather dropped the statement like a stone into a pond and waited for the ripples.

  “That’s a personal subject.” His jaw set, Jason lifted a lid from a pot atop the stove. The aroma of poaching salmon and herbs whetted Heather’s appetite.

  “You’re the one who dragged me up here so we could get better acquainted,” she reminded him.

  Maybe, a small voice warned, she should back off. If they were going to dig into each other’s pasts, the truth about Ginger would come out. Well, she’d been thinking about revealing it, anyway, hadn’t she? Maybe by tomorrow, if Jason earned her trust, she might be ready to tell him.

  Trust had to begin with honesty. He hadn’t made a good start of that when he’d tricked her into coming here, but, in her current mood, Heather was willing to give him a second chance.

  From a cabinet, Jason extracted a pair of plates and glasses. “You’re right. And since the office gossips have probably put me in the worst possible light, I might as well set the record straight.”

  He arranged two place settings across from each other at the cozy table. Heather found paper napkins in a grocery sack and added cutlery from a drawer.

  “Eileen and I drifted into an engagement I wasn’t ready for,” Jason said. “I know I’m to blame for hurting her, but she wasn’t honest about her interests or her goals. It all fell apart during the last year of my residency, when…well, some things went seriously wrong at work that made me take a hard look at myself.”

  “What kind of things?” Nothing in Jason’s professional record hinted at problems, as far as Heather knew.

  “One of my patients was a low-income mother-to-be who’d led a rough life.” He leaned against the counter. From his remote air, Heather knew he was looking at faces and hearing voices from long ago. “I’d grown up in a privileged environment. Although my parents were too busy to spend much time with me, I’d never even dreamed of the chaos or the abuse she’d grown up with. It rattled me when she talked about it.”

  “I understand.” Heather had been shocked at the circumstances of some of the Moms in Training. Despite the rejections she’d endured during her own unwed pregnancy, her close family had always protected her.

  “Although she received free treatment as a charity patient, she couldn’t afford vitamins, so I gave her free samples,” Jason said.

  “I did the same thing before I came to Doctors Circle.” One of the major attractions of working in Serene Beach, for Heather, was that she no longer had to beg and borrow to help underprivileged women. Special funding provided them with medications as well as treatment.

  “This girl, Mary Alice, started dropping by to talk, and I sometimes let her hang around my office because she seemed so lonely.” He removed serving plates from the cabinet.

  “It can be hard to know where to draw the line.” Heather found two bottles of salad dressing and carried them to the table.

  “This had been going on for about a month when one of the nurses caught her stealing drugs off a counter. There’d been a few items missing before, including money from purses, but I’d never connected the thefts with Mary Alice.” Jason transferred the salmon onto a platter. “I felt terrible. I’d exposed the office staff to a thief. To make matters worse, she’d stolen a controlled substance. I could have been in deep water.”

  “The only thing you were guilty of was compassion,” Heather said.

  “The hospital administrator read me the riot act.” Jason’s voice grew hoarse, a sign that time hadn’t erased the pain he’d experienced years ago. “It made me doubt everything I thought I knew about myself. Although I’d worked hard to succeed, it hadn’t been terribly difficult. That was the first time I realized that I could fail. What if they’d yanked my license?”

  “That wasn’t justified,” Heather said.

  “Even a temporary suspension would have tarnished my record,” Jason said. “If I didn’t get the best opportunities, I’d have ended up as just another doctor.”

  “The world can always use another good doctor.” She was glad she’d never felt such an intense drive to be the most distinguished physician in her field. She simply wanted to do her best for her patients.

  “That’s true, but it isn’t enough for me,” Jason said. “I was desperate to prove myself, to move on to the next level and never, never make a mistake like that again. When the offer came from the research center in England, I felt as though I’d been given a new lease on life.”

  “I guess that brings us back to your engagement,” Heather said.

  “Eileen didn’t understand.” Jason clicked off the burners under the pots.

  “Was she a doctor herself?”

  “A law student.” He removed the lids
and set them aside. “She’d told me she planned to dedicate herself to her career, but that wasn’t true. What she’d apparently wanted all along was a husband and kids and a home. I can’t blame her, but she picked the wrong guy. I’m afraid I bailed out on her rather abruptly.”

  “It sounds like neither of you was mature enough to get married,” Heather said.

  “Looking back, I don’t regret breaking it off, but I wish I’d been kinder,” Jason said.

  “What happened to Mary Alice?”

  “She made restitution for the thefts, the drugs were recovered and she was referred to counseling.” He placed the hot food on serving dishes. “After that, I lost track of her.”

  “You want to save every patient, don’t you?” Heather said. “I know I do. We’re not gods, though. We’re just doctors. Well, if we’re ready to eat, I’ll go get Ginger.”

  As she went into the living room, she found herself liking Jason more. It was reassuring to discover that he regretted having hurt his fiancée. She also had to admire the compassion he’d showed toward Mary Alice, despite the unpleasant consequences.

  Unfortunately, she also saw that sooner or later he would move on to a bigger challenge, a better opportunity. If Boston wasn’t big enough for his ambition, Doctors Circle wouldn’t be, either. No wonder he had no interest in planting rosebushes.

  Regardless of how caring he might be, Jason Carmichael wasn’t the kind of man to stick around. That fact bothered Heather more than she wanted it to.

  Chapter Eleven

  After dinner, Jason moved the playpen to a bedroom and Heather spread a blanket inside it while he held the baby. When she wriggled restlessly, he feared for a moment that he might drop her. Once she nestled into the crook of his arm, however, his uncertainty vanished.

  “What’s the ritual for putting a baby to bed?” he asked.

  Heather gave him a startled glance. “There’s not much to it. You change her diaper and lay her down on her back. Why?”

  “Surely it involves more than that.” Jason refused to accept such an anemic plan for his daughter. “In the movie, Mary Poppins sang a lullaby.”

  “I do that occasionally,” Heather admitted. “My voice is nothing to brag about, though.”

  “You talk with a musical lilt. All you’d have to do is speak the lyrics to her.” He’d always enjoyed the texture of her voice.

  “Is that a compliment?”

  “Well, sure,” he said. Concerned that he might be getting too personal for her comfort, Jason added, “Besides, I’m sure babies love the murmur of a woman’s voice, regardless of whether she’s qualified to sing opera.”

  “Men can sing, too.” Heather removed most of the toys from the playpen.

  “You don’t mean me, right?” Jason hadn’t performed in public since elementary school, when he’d stumbled through the role of a second molar in a musical play about dental hygiene.

  “Do you see any other men around here?”

  “Thankfully, no.”

  “I’m sure Ginger would love to hear you.” She folded her arms and fixed him with a commanding stare. “I know I would.”

  Jason dredged his memory for a song. “Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall,” which his high-school classmates had bellowed on the bus going to field trips, didn’t seem appropriate. “Is it okay if I hum?”

  “Sure.” Wearing a bemused smile, Heather slid onto the edge of the bed and watched him. Her hair, delightfully mussed, flared around her face like the afterglow of a sunset.

  All evening, as they’d talked and eaten and fed the baby, Jason had developed a closeness to her that he’d never experienced before. Not even with Eileen.

  He didn’t know where it was leading and he didn’t care. These moments with his daughter and her mother were so precious, he wished the weekend could last forever.

  Rocking Ginger in his arms, he began humming an unidentified tune that popped into his mind. It wasn’t much of a melody, more a series of notes that became oddly ominous.

  “What on earth is that?” Heather asked.

  Jason struggled to identify the song. “It might be the theme from Jaws.”

  “You expect to soothe a baby with that?”

  “I didn’t realize what it was. Sorry.” What kind of father frightened his daughter instead of comforting her? “Okay, I’ve got a better one.”

  “You could hardly find a worse one.”

  He launched into “The Wheels on the Bus,” which had stuck in his mind after listening to a patient, a year or so ago, repeat it endlessly to keep her toddler quiet.

  The effect on Ginger was electrifying. About to doze off, she snapped to attention. That might be because Jason instinctively circled her through the air to illustrate how the wheels went round and round.

  “Wait!” Heather said. “I was wrong.”

  “About what?”

  “You did find a worse one.” Reaching out, she pried the baby from his grasp. “The object is to lull the little one to sleep, not rev her up to party all night.”

  “You mean I fail Lullaby?” Jason asked.

  “It’s okay. Nobody expects the irascible Dr. Carmichael to turn into Daddy Dearest, although I do appreciate the effort.” Gazing deep into the baby’s green eyes, Heather launched into the old song, “Mockingbird.”

  Ginger’s muscles relaxed and within minutes she sank into a doze. Cradling her, Heather glowed with love.

  Jason had never seen a woman look more beautiful. Ladies in formfitting evening gowns or skimpy swimsuits didn’t compare to Heather in an untucked blouse and creased slacks. Motherhood transformed her into a force both universal and very, very specific.

  He remembered the first time he’d seen her, in Atlanta. He’d noticed instantly that she had a special quality. It had amazed him that every man in the hotel lobby didn’t try to corral her for himself.

  After that, images blurred. Drinks and conversation. The elevator to his room. A glimpse of a butterfly. Then, frustratingly, nothing. His body throbbed with a longing to replace that nothingness with tangible memories.

  As the baby drooped into sleep, Heather lowered her gently to the blanket. Ginger nestled into the softness.

  Finger to lips, Heather led the way out. In the living room, the fire crackled, its warmth a delicious contrast to the wind rattling the windows.

  “This weather seems so exotic to me.” Through the glass, Heather regarded the snow swirling in the darkness. “For a Bostonian like you, I guess it’s normal.”

  “I haven’t been snowed in for quite a while.” Jason almost hoped the forecast was wrong and the storm would continue tomorrow as well. Then there’d be no chance of leaving. “Hold on a minute.”

  In the kitchen, he found a bottle of wine he’d spied earlier and returned carrying it and a couple of glasses. “This is what was missing.”

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” Heather regarded him with a mixture of amusement and doubt. “Neither of us handles alcohol well, judging by the way we behaved in Atlanta.”

  “What’s the worst that could happen?” Jason asked.

  “Do I have to spell it out?” Heather said.

  “No. My memory of what happened may be fuzzy, but I get the idea.” Setting the bottle aside, he made himself comfortable on the couch. “I don’t know why, but being around you puts my best intentions in jeopardy.”

  “Are you saying it’s my fault if anything happens?” Heather eyed the bottle and the empty glasses beside it.

  “Not at all.” Jason raised one hand for a truce. He didn’t understand why everything he said came out wrong around this woman. “That’s not what I meant. I’m a grown man. I take responsibility for my own actions.”

  “Then do you promise to behave if I have a few drops?” Cautiously, she reached for a glass.

  “I’ll do my best.” Jason fully intended to hold himself in check.

  “Okay. It is Friday night, after all.” After pouring herself some wine, Heather slip
ped into a chair and curled her slim legs beneath her. She’d discarded her shoes, he noticed.

  Her feet were long and slender. Perfect for running on the beach or tangling in the sheets. The amazing part was that they sparkled.

  “Are those stars on your toenails?” Jason asked in surprise.

  “I had them done on impulse,” Heather said. “My dau—” She stopped, and quickly found new words. “They’re a silly indulgence, but Ginger finds them fascinating.”

  Although he pretended not to notice the slip, Jason’s heart leaped. Once again, Heather had confirmed that she had a daughter.

  He followed her example and poured himself some wine. Not being a connoisseur, he didn’t know much about bouquet, but it tasted good to him. “You made an excellent choice.”

  “The only other option was flowers.”

  Her answer made no sense. “Flowers instead of wine?”

  “No, instead of stars.” Heather blinked. “You were talking about the wine? Okay, I’m making the shift from pedicures now. It’s from one of my favorite California vintners.”

  “Is that where you’re from? The wine country?” Jason asked.

  Heather laughed. “Northridge is nowhere near the Napa or Sonoma valleys. My parents drove us up there on vacation when I was a teenager, but I was too young to visit the wine-tasting rooms.”

  “That’s too bad,” he said. “Maybe you should pay the wineries another visit. I’d like to visit the Bay Area while I’m in California.”

  They talked about favorite places to visit. Jason’s ranged from Washington, D.C., and Colonial Williamsburg to London and Stonehenge. Heather’s lay closer to home: Catalina Island, Santa Barbara, Mexico.

  Slowly, the tension between them dissolved into easy comradeship. Jason’s subtle awareness of Heather’s femininity remained a pleasant undertone.

  In the bedroom, Ginger slept soundly. Heather checked on her the first time and Jason the second. The third time, they went in together.

  It would be a natural time to bring up the subject closest to his heart. Not that he’d plied Heather with wine in hopes of encouraging her to admit he was Ginger’s father, but it might work out that way.