A Perfect Father

by Laura Iding

  “So do you.” She watched him, trying to read his mind. Did he already regret their intimacy? Was he right now trying to think of a way to let her down gently? Well, he needn’t bother. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told him he wouldn’t hurt her.

  Well, maybe she was a little hurt. But at least this time she’d gone to bed with him already knowing there wouldn’t be a long-term relationship between them.

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  Peachy. Now they were both fine. She understood what he was really telling her. “All right, I won’t. Goodnight, Blake.”

  “Goodnight, Moriah.”

  She could feel the weight of his gaze on her back as she left the PACU. Had he expected heated protests? Theatrics? Or, worse, tears? Hesitating in the doorway, she drummed up the nerve to glance back at him.

  He was bent over his patient, concentrating intensely on the skin flap.

  She turned back, hardening her resolve. Not this time. She wasn’t that foolish.

  CHAPTER TEN

  MORIAH didn’t sleep very well. Blake’s scent clung to her pillow and sheets, filling her head until she ached with wanting. She rose early, having arranged for a taxi to take her over to the orphanage first thing that morning.

  Blake caught her in the hotel lobby as she was about to head outside. “Where are you going?”

  “To pick up Henri.”

  Blake didn’t seem nearly as exhausted as she’d expected after staying up most of the night. “I’ll come with you.”

  Surprised by his offer, she shrugged. “Fine with me, although wouldn’t you rather get some sleep?”

  “I managed to get about five hours’ worth,” Blake admitted, following her outside into the bright sunlight. A tall, lean man waited patiently beside the taxi. “Hey, you hired the same guy.”

  “I know.” Moriah smiled at the driver. “Bernardo, it’s nice to see you again.”

  “Señorita.” He nodded at her, then politely opened the door for them.

  Once they were settled inside, there was a lengthy awkward silence. Just when she was figuring it would be a very long drive, Blake turned toward her. “I bet you think I should have known the guy’s name.”

  Yes, she did, but she tried to choose her words carefully. “You know, Blake, it’s obvious you care very much for your patients, but outside of work, you hold yourself aloof. I understand why, I realize your childhood was painful, but the good thing about being an adult is the ability to make choices. Choosing to loosen up a little, to talk to people more, might be a place to start.”

  He didn’t take offense at her suggestion, but actually seemed to be seriously considering her words. “I guess I could try.”

  “So how is your flap patient doing—what was his name?” She knew very well what the patient’s name was, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “José, and he’s doing fine. Luckily, the flap took. But I spent a good couple of hours doing fifteen-minute flap checks to be sure. I fell asleep in the doctors’ lounge about one-thirty this morning.”

  “I’m glad.” How interesting Blake could open up to his patients and their families, but never bother to ask the taxi driver’s name. Maybe he didn’t realize how he perpetuated his loneliness after all.

  She tried to ignore the tiny flare of hope, telling herself this revelation didn’t mean anything.

  He closed his eyes and she fell silent, knowing how much he needed to sleep. But ten minutes later he reached over to take her hand in his. “I missed you last night.”

  Her pulse kicked upward when his warm, strong fingers wrapped protectively around hers. She couldn’t help but smile. “What was that, a power nap?”

  “Yeah. Works wonders.”

  She laughed, then added, “I missed you, too.”

  Holding her gaze, he picked up her hand and pressed a kiss on the back. She melted a little at the gallant gesture.

  “So how far is it to the orphanage?” He surreptitiously tugged her closer.

  “I don’t have the faintest idea,” she murmured, unable to resist his unspoken request. She leaned closer, craving his embrace.

  His gaze remained solemn when he looked at her. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you are?”

  She caught her breath. “No.”

  “I should have.” He lowered his head and she eagerly met him more than halfway.

  She enjoyed his kiss for a long moment, then pulled back, looking into his eyes. “What’s going on, between us, Blake?”

  He shrugged and brushed a stray curl from her cheek. “I don’t know. I’m not making promises about the future, but I can’t seem to get you out of my blood. My life hasn’t been the same since I left you last year. I don’t know what it means but, I swear, I’m not playing games with you.”

  For some reason, she believed him. When she leaned forward to kiss him again, the taxi stopped.

  “Señorita, we have arrived,” Bernardo announced in Spanish from the front seat.

  With a groan, Blake lifted his head. “Great timing, Bernardo,” he muttered in a sour tone.

  Moriah giggled but refrained from pointing out Blake’s power nap had wasted a good portion of their time. Still, she almost wished she’d instructed Bernardo to take the scenic route. Regretfully, she moved away and got out of the taxi. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  She hurried to the front door of the orphanage and knocked. Henri opened the door. “La médica!”

  “Hola, Henri.” Behind the boy she saw the wide girth of Sister Rita. “Hello, Sister.”

  “Won’t you come in?” the woman asked. “I promised you a tour.”

  “I’d love a tour, but we’re pressed for time.” Moriah gave her an apologetic glance. “Would you mind waiting until I bring Henri back after his surgery?”

  “Of course not. Thanks for coming out to pick him up.” The woman truly seemed to have the personality of a saint, as nothing bothered her in the least. “Take care, now. I’ll see you soon.”

  Moriah clasped Henri’s hand in hers as they headed back toward the taxi. The boy climbed in, settling between the two adults.

  Blake cleared his throat. “So, Henri. How are you?”

  “Bueno.” The boy grinned from ear to ear. “I didn’t have to study today.”

  Just like every other kid in the world, Henri didn’t seem to mind being forced to miss school. “Hmm. Guess you’ll have to study harder to make up the lost time, won’t you?” Moriah pointed out.

  Henri nodded. “It’s OK, I like to study. Most of the time.” He lifted up his deformed hand. “But I also want to learn how to make things with my hands, so I’m happy to have this be the day for my surgery.”

  Blake’s troubled gaze rested on Henri, and Moriah wondered what he was thinking.

  “I’m glad I can help your hand so you can make things, Henri.” Blake paused, then added, “But if you could be anything you wanted, in the whole world, what would you do?”

  “That’s easy.” Henri pointed at both of them. “I would become a doctor, so I could help all the children who have been burned by fire. Just like you.”

  Moriah lightly brushed her hand over his head, overcome with emotion. “That’s an admirable wish, Henri,” she said when she could speak.

  Blake simply nodded, but this time his gaze lingered on Henri, and she suspected he was seeing himself in the boy’s earnest eyes.

  Henri continued to chatter as Bernardo pulled up in front of the hotel. When she would have paid the fare, Blake insisted on paying it himself. As they walked down the street to the hospital, a strangely familiar car rushed past them, coming to a jarring stop in front of the emergency entrance.

  “Manuel?” Moriah recognized the young man who shot from the car almost before it stopped. He immediately rounded the car to open the passenger door and she caught a glimpse of Rasha inside. She quickened her pace. “Oh, God, something’s wrong with the baby.”

  “What baby?” Blake asked, then he remembered her mentioning
she’d helped a woman deliver her baby on their first day.

  Moriah didn’t answer, her attention centered on the woman emerging from her car. “Rasha, what happened?”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she held her crying baby. Even to Blake’s inexpert ears, the crying didn’t seem normal. “She spit up, then choked. I tried to get the stuff out of her mouth, but she turned blue.”

  Moriah quickly took over, turning the infant on her belly and using her index finger to help hold the mouth open. “It’s all right, everything is going to be just fine.”

  “Let’s get the baby inside.” Blake belatedly opened the emergency-department doors and ushered them inside. Infants were out of his league, unless they needed something surgically repaired. Helplessly, he watched as Moriah took the baby into a room and immediately began to assess it.

  He ran his hand through his hair, unable to remember if the baby was a boy or a girl.

  Using a suction ball, provided by one of the nurses, Moriah suctioned out the baby’s nose and mouth. “Her pulse is high—210—and her respirations are fast, too. But her pulse ox seems to be a little better, up to 90 per cent.”

  A girl. Blake could barely see much of the baby, with the adults gathered around, but he heard what Moriah said.

  The baby was a girl.

  He didn’t know why he felt compelled to know the sex of the child. He felt useless as he watched. Rasha and Manuel were certainly concerned parents. With every look, every gesture they showed their love for their baby. Clearly, they were the perfect family. The sounds of the baby’s crying changed to smaller, hiccuping sobs, without the hoarseness of earlier.

  “There, she’s doing better already, see?” Moriah cradled the baby in her arms. “Her pulse and respirations are returning to normal.”

  “She’ll need some antibiotics to ward off pneumonia.” He finally found his voice. The image of Moriah holding a baby sent a shock wave vibrating through him. For someone who didn’t want children, he could all too easily see his baby in her arms.

  Except he didn’t particularly like kids.

  Actually, it wasn’t as if he disliked them. He just couldn’t understand why people willingly took on such an overwhelmingly serious responsibility. A lifelong responsibility.

  “I agree.” Moriah met his gaze, then frowned. “Is that you being paged?”

  “Huh?” He hadn’t heard a thing.

  One of the Peruvian nurses entered the room. “Dr Powers? There is a request for you to go to the OR.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.” He met Moriah’s gaze. “I’ll see you later.”

  “I’ll be up soon,” she promised.

  He’d nearly forgotten Henri until he saw him hovering in the doorway. “Henri, I’ll see you later, too, when it’s time to do surgery on your hand.”

  Henri nodded. “You saved the baby.”

  Wryly, Blake shook his head. “Not me. Moriah did all the work.”

  “Thank you.” Manuel stepped forward, taking Blake’s hand and pumping it enthusiastically. “For coming when you did.”

  Blake nodded, refraining from stating the obvious again. He slipped out of the cubicle and strode through the emergency department to the elevators that would take him to the first-floor operating rooms. His views on life seemed confused and he didn’t like it one bit.

  He especially hadn’t liked feeling helpless during the mini-crisis. Performing plastic surgery on small children was one thing, saving their lives was altogether different.

  George waited for him in the main OR. “Sorry to bother you, but I have another sick surgeon. If you can, I need you to operate.”

  “No problem. I planned on doing Henri’s surgery later anyway.”

  “Thanks. Your patient is in room three.” George hurried off.

  Blake quickly changed out of his street clothes into scrubs. As he began to wash his hands in the large sink, he thought about Moriah. He’d followed her into the cab this morning on impulse. Holding hands with her, kissing her, hadn’t been nearly enough.

  He longed for more.

  Last night, he’d have given anything to follow her back to her room. Maybe tonight?

  Wait a minute. He pulled himself up short. What was he thinking? If he continued to spend time with her on this trip, leaving her would be twice as hard. For both of them.

  Seeing Moriah with Rasha’s baby had only reinforced what he already knew. Moriah was looking for a long-term relationship. Right after Ryan had proposed she’d confided that one of her reasons for becoming an anesthesiologist had been because once she had children, it would be easier to work part-time hours.

  Children, plural. Meaning she was planning a large family, just like her own.

  Remembering Moriah’s loud, boisterous family, where no one seemed to pay attention to anyone else, he almost winced. He knew that wasn’t what he wanted. His life with his aunt and uncle hadn’t been horrible; in fact, things had often been quiet and peaceful.

  Until they’d died, first his uncle from a massive stroke then his aunt a year later. She’d seemed to wither away until she’d joined her husband, leaving Blake alone again.

  Pushing away his thoughts, he finished scrubbing and headed into OR suite three. Luckily, the patient was a simple contracture release, very similar to one he’d done the other day. He reviewed the record for a few minutes, then began to operate.

  And wondered when Moriah would be joining him.

  Hours later, he still hadn’t seen Moriah, and had no idea where she was until he entered the OR where Henri’s case was scheduled.

  There she was, talking to Henri and trying to put the boy at ease.

  “I promise, I’ll be here when you wake up,” she told him, as she gently infused some medication into his IV.

  Henri nodded and closed his eyes. Blake watched as Moriah gathered the equipment she’d need to place his breathing tube.

  “I wondered where you were,” he commented as he began to arrange the surgical trays the way he liked them.

  “George needed assistance, so I worked in his room then went to see Henri. I think he was more nervous than he let on.”

  He didn’t blame the boy for being nervous. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked with a frown. “There’s bound to be another anesthesiologist who wouldn’t mind doing Henri’s case for you.”

  She shot him a startled look. “Why? I’m fine. Really, he’s just another patient.”

  Blake highly doubted Henri was just a patient. Moriah seemed to have a more intense interest in Henri than in any of the other kids. Even if she wasn’t ready to admit it herself, Henri was different.

  Heck, he wasn’t so sure he could blithely operate on the boy either. Henri’s cheeky grin flashed in his mind’s eye. What if something horrible happened during the procedure? His gut clenched and he took a calming breath.

  With an effort he cleared his mind. He wasn’t attached to the boy, not like Moriah was. She was a natural with kids.

  The thought troubled him. Because the thought of Moriah bearing another man’s child was painful.

  Worse than that, the very image made him feel slightly sick.

  He shook off the depressing notion. There wasn’t time for this. He had surgery to perform. One thing was for sure, he knew Moriah well enough to know she was a professional. If she were overly emotionally involved in Henri’s care, she’d step aside and assign someone else to take over. Just as he would in the same situation.

  “All right, let me know when you’re ready,” Blake instructed.

  “Just about.” She’d already placed Henri’s breathing tube and was in the process of connecting him to the anesthesia machine. “There. Just let me give the first dose of antibiotics, then you can get started.”

  “Sounds good.” He’d thought working with her after the night they’d shared would be difficult but, in fact, he was glad she was there. He liked hearing the sound of her voice as she took care of the patients, appreciated having her at his s
ide during a crisis. Like the power outage the other day. There was no one calmer in an emergency than Moriah. He gently examined Henri’s burned fingers, deciding how best to tackle the problem of releasing the contractures.

  “Ready to go,” Moriah announced.

  “Great.” He decided to work on the middle finger first, since that was the digit crucial to gaining more movement in the rest of his hand.

  He made his first incision, and was just preparing to detach the tendon when Moriah cried out, “Blake! Henri’s covered with hives. He must be allergic to the antibiotic.”

  Blake glanced up. “Get a dose of epinephrine ready.”

  “I already gave some Benadryl and one milligram of epinephrine.” Moriah’s voice was uncharacteristically shaky. “There’s no record of penicillin allergies in his chart. Didn’t we use penicillin last time we operated on him?”

  “Actually, I don’t think we did. We used Cefoxin last time.” A fact he only knew because he’d read the boy’s chart to review what he’d planned to do. He glanced at Moriah, trying to read her eyes. “Should we abort the procedure? We can always make room for him in another couple of days.”

  “No, I think the epinephrine is working.” She appeared calmer now. “The hives are still there, but they aren’t getting any worse. And he’s already intubated and oxygenating fine, luckily.”

  “I’ll continue to operate, if that’s what you want.” Blake heard the underlying tremor in her voice and knew this decision had to be hers alone. She was the one closest to the boy. “Your choice, Moriah.”

  “Go ahead, he’s doing fine.” Her dark gaze met his. “I’d rather get this over with, if you don’t mind.”

  “All right, then.” Blake turned his attention back to Henri’s hand. “Hopefully this won’t take long.”

  He worked over the small fingers in Henri’s hand, cutting the scar tissue so the fingers could be used again. He only needed to do a few small grafts to help repair the damaged tendons.

  After an hour and a half he stepped back and stretched his aching muscles. “All finished. I think he’ll actually have more use of the damaged fingers than I’d originally anticipated.”