The Doctor's Secret Child

by Catherine Spencer

  He was late by nearly half an hour. Half an hour during which she fought the demons of disappointment hounding her as she paced back and forth in the living room, waiting for the sound and sight of his car pulling up outside.

  “You took your time getting here,” she greeted him, when at last he showed up.

  “You took your sweet time opening the door,” he shot back, rubbing his bare hands together briskly. “Man, it’s colder in here than it is outside.”

  “The furnace doesn’t work properly. That was another reason I moved us to the Inn.” She swung back down the hall to the kitchen. “We can talk in here. It’s the warmest room in the house.”

  “Don’t suppose you’ve got any coffee on hand?”

  “No.”

  He shrugged and took a seat at the table. “Didn’t think so.”

  He was wearing what she’d come to think of as his working clothes: blue jeans, navy crew neck sweater over white T-shirt, and sheepskin-lined denim jacket. Eyeing him surreptitiously, she decided he looked even more worn out than she felt. “Bad day?”

  “The usual. We’ve had a rash of emergencies pile up on us. I’ve managed no more than about three hours’ sleep in the last twenty-four.” He yawned and glanced at her briefly from under his lashes. “The night before wasn’t much better, though for different reasons.”

  “I haven’t been doing all that well, myself.”

  “So it would seem. You look like hell.”

  Oh, terrific! Before he launched into a detailed description of just how she looked like hell, she took a seat on the other side of the table and said, “So let’s settle whatever this pressing business is, then hopefully we can both go home and get some rest.”

  Fanning his long fingers wide, he spread his hands on the tabletop, and stared at them. “I suppose I should begin by apologizing for…betraying your trust the other night.”

  “And how did you do that?”

  “I took advantage of you when you were emotionally fragile.”

  “Oh, spare me, please!” she said scornfully. “I’m as much responsible for what happened as you are. You didn’t force me into anything I wasn’t willing to go along with. If you owe anyone an apology, it’s your fiancée. She’s the one you betrayed.”

  “Summer and I are no longer engaged.”

  “Oh,” she said. “And whose decision was it to call things off?”

  “It was mutual.”

  “You don’t sound as if it was. You sound miserable.”

  He passed his hand over his eyes and shook his head. “I’m tired. And I don’t enjoy hurting innocent people.” Glancing around, he said irritably, “If you don’t have coffee, is there nothing else in this house? I could use a stiff drink.”

  “Is that wise? What if you’re called out on another emergency?”

  “I won’t be. I’m taking the next five days off. It’ll be the first real break I’ve had in over six months, and I’m ready for it.”

  To feel sympathy for him was dangerous. To note with concern the dark smudges under his eyes and parentheses of fatigue curving the corners of his mouth, foolhardy in the extreme. She couldn’t afford to be vulnerable to his pain. She couldn’t afford to care. Let him suffer!

  “There’s probably some brandy in the house. My father kept a bottle in his sock drawer, strictly for medicinal purposes,” she said. “Will that do?”

  Something which passed for a smile crossed his face. “Sure, as long as it doesn’t taste of socks.”

  Although they’d moved to the Inn only a few days before, already the upstairs held the dank, cold air of a house abandoned. Containing a shiver, Molly pulled open the top drawer in her father’s dresser.

  His socks were lined up in neat rows, exactly as she remembered them, and at the back a three-quarter full bottle of cheap brandy. Ever since she’d been a little girl, she’d known that when he measured an ounce into a glass and knocked it back in one gulp, it was because the stump of his amputated leg was giving him grief. Sometimes, if it was really bad, he’d leave his artificial limb in the armoire and hobble up and down the stairs on crutches. Shockingly, a feeling close to pity for the man touched her at the memory.

  Unwilling to acknowledge such an anomaly, she grabbed the bottle and was about to turn away when she noticed a small picture frame lying facedown in the bottom of the drawer. She picked it and turned it over to find it held a photograph of herself—except from the quality of the print, faded and spotted with age, and the clothes the woman wore, it clearly was someone else who happened to be Molly’s double. Curious, she stuffed it in the side pocket of the bag of personal items she’d packed for her mother, tucked the brandy bottle under her arm, and rejoined Dan in the kitchen.

  He’d fallen asleep in the chair, with his head resting against the wall and his legs sprawled out under the table. But although she moved quietly, he heard the clink of the bottle hitting the counter and jerked awake. “Must have dropped off,” he mumbled.

  “So it would seem.” Staunching the well of sympathy which persisted in leaking through her resolve to remain distant, she unscrewed the bottle cap. “This is the best I can come up with,” she said. “And I know for a fact we don’t have any brandy snifters, so I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with a dime-store juice glass.”

  “Thanks.” His fingers brushed hers fleetingly as he accepted his drink. Even so slight a touch, she thought dispiritedly, was enough to stir within her a host of useless longings. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

  “Yes,” she said, even though, just seconds earlier, she’d had no intention of doing any such thing, deeming it wiser by far to retain a clear head. But she needed some fortification against his relentless assault on her heart, and nothing else presented itself.

  “Here’s to self-discovery,” he said, raising his glass when she came back to the table. “I’ve done a lot of soul-searching over the last two days, and reached some pretty drastic conclusions.”

  She took a sip of the liquor and grimaced at the foul taste. “Such as?”

  “For a start, I discovered I was more in love with the idea of marriage, than I ever was with Summer.”

  “I’d never have guessed it from the way you couldn’t keep your hands off each other at dinner the other night.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving, Molly. I’m deeply fond of her, I admit, but we’ve never known the kind of grand passion which…well, never mind about that.” As if he’d caught himself on the verge of admitting something better left unsaid, he reined himself in and continued, “What it all boils down to is that we drifted into a relationship less because we couldn’t live without each other than because we’ve known each other all our lives and we…suited each other. She wanted children, and a husband who fits a certain mold, and I could give her those things.”

  “And what about what you wanted, Dan?”

  He gave a self-mocking shrug and took another mouthful of brandy. “Let’s just say a man can find it lonely, coming back to an empty apartment every night. He reaches a stage where, after a bad day when he’s lost a patient too young to die, or missed a symptom he should have caught while there was still time to treat a life-threatening disease, he needs the warmth and solace of companionship. I thought we could both make do with that. That it would be enough on which to build a marriage. I was wrong.”

  “Why? Because you turned out to be not quite as perfect as she’d expected?”

  “No,” he said. “Because learning I had a daughter made me take a hard look at myself and I didn’t much like what I saw.”

  “Which was?”

  “A man following the line of least resistance. I want Ariel to be proud of me. If I can’t have her love, I at least want her respect. But she’s too much your daughter to be impressed by a someone who compromised his professional integrity for the sake of a warm body lying next to him in bed every night.”

  “I don’t see what one has to do with the other.”

  “Marrying Summer c
ame with a price. Sooner or later, I’d have been expected to sell my partnership in the Eastside Clinic and join her father’s practice. Henry’s a very fine doctor, and there’s no question that working with him would have brought me a lot of prestige. But my heart would never have been in it. I’d have been taking the easy way out. Making do. Again. And I think Ariel deserves a better father than that.”

  If he’d been half as principled at twenty-five as he was at thirty-six, Molly would have rejoiced. But it frightened her now. “And how is this epiphany going to affect Ariel?” she asked with studied calm.

  He stretched and took a turn about the kitchen. “I want to do what’s best for her.”

  “And what do you see as being best for her?”

  “Providing her with a stable home.”

  Molly’s apprehension intensified, spiked a flash of anger. “She already has a stable home. With me.”

  “I’m sure in many ways she has. But the fact is, you’ve got a warped idea of what fathers are all about. Chances are she’s going to grow up reflecting your attitudes, whether or not you intend that she should, and that’s not healthy.”

  “If you think you’re going to take my daughter away from me, you’re delusional!” she said, her anger spilling over into outright fury. “I’ll see you in hell first!”

  “No need to fly off the handle, Molly,” he said, all calm, sweet reason in the face of her utter disarray. “I already told you I’m not interested in doing that. In any case, this isn’t about which of us is the more deserving parent, it’s about accountability. I didn’t act responsibly when Ariel was conceived, but I’m damned if I’m going to repeat the sin by walking away from my obligations now.”

  “What if I want you to walk away?”

  “What you, or I for that matter, want isn’t the issue. What matters is our child.”

  “My stars,” she said, dripping scorn, “no wonder you’re so tired! You must sit up half the night polishing your halo.”

  “Oh, hell, Molly, I’m no saint. I proved that two nights ago.”

  “At least we agree on something.”

  “You weren’t exactly a model of decorum yourself, my dear!”

  To her chagrin, she blushed. “All right, if you’re not planning to sabotage my relationship with Ariel, what are you proposing?”

  “Marriage, I suppose,” he replied dully.

  “You suppose?” Unable to believe she’d heard correctly, she stared at him in outrage. “I’m blown away by your unqualified enthusiasm!”

  “Because you’re thinking about yourself. Try for a minute to step outside the personal. Or if you must focus on what’s in it for you, consider the advantages of being married to me.”

  She rolled her eyes disparagingly. “Like what?”

  “Respectability, social prestige, money.”

  The crack of her hand across his cheek registered before the fact that she’d actually slapped him. Stunned, she backed away. “I’m sorry!” she whispered shakily. “Truly, Dan, I am so sorry! I’ve never hit anyone in my life before.” Reeling with shame and shock, she stumbled toward the door leading to the hall, knowing only that she had to get away from the sight of the red marks striping his face where her fingers had struck. “Dear heaven, I’m no better than my father!”

  Dan’s arms came around her from behind and stopped her in mid flight. “You’re nothing like your father,” he said against her hair. “And nor am I. But I am going to insist on being a father to our daughter, and I believe it’s in her best interests for us to get married.”

  “And in mine to get a leg up on the social ladder.” She winced at the backlash of arrogance which suddenly showed through the layers of his latter-day humility. “You know nothing about me, about who I really am or what I’ve accomplished, yet you have the gall to suggest I’d be bettering myself by becoming Mrs. Dan Cordell.”

  “No. I was merely trying to point out the practical merits of the arrangement since you’ve made it clear that appealing to your emotions won’t get me anywhere.”

  “How could it?” she said. “I don’t trust you. You couldn’t wait to hotfoot it out of town as soon as you grew tired of me, the first time we hopped on this merry-go-round. Not once did you stop to wonder if there might be repercussions to having unprotected sex with me. And when you came back and found I’d left Harmony Cove for good, you made no attempt to find out why. You just let out a huge sigh of relief and forgot I ever existed, so explain to me, if you can, how we’re supposed to build a marriage out of that?”

  “By working on it.”

  “Forget it!” She twisted out of his hold before he seduced her into ignoring what she knew to be true. “Don’t let conscience drive you into a liaison of respectability with me. I’m never going to fit in your rarified stratosphere, no matter how much you coach me. I’ll pick up the wrong fork, or worse yet, eat with my fingers, and make you the laughingstock of Harmony Cove’s social set. So do us both a favor and crawl back to Ms. Debutante. And if she won’t have you and living alone becomes more than you can handle, buy yourself a German shepherd or a golden retriever for companionship.”

  “You seem to be overlooking one crucial factor, Molly,” he said, stalking her across the kitchen and drawing her into his arms again. “There’s another side to our involvement which has nothing to do with convenience or conscience, and everything to do with the fact that the sexual chemistry between us goes a long way toward compensating for the other shortcomings our marriage would face.”

  The sane part of her brain told her that “compensating” and “shortcomings” weren’t the kind of words a bride-to-be wanted to hear. She wanted “love.” She wanted joy and orange blossom and lace; wedding cake and confetti and promises of happy-ever-after.

  The other part, the one which turned to mush at his touch, had her leaning into him and indulging in daydreams based on nothing but lust. Heaven only knew what she might not have agreed to if there hadn’t come a sharp rap on the back door and Cadie Boudelet’s moon-shaped face peered in through the window.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “CAME to see why there are lights on in this kitchen when I know Hilda’s not at home these days,” she announced, barging through the back door uninvited.

  “No need to be concerned,” Molly said. “It’s just me.”

  “You—and the doctor!”

  Fully aware of the conclusions being drawn and the kind of rumors which would have the whole of Wharf Street humming for the next quarter century, Molly could have tried quenching the woman’s insatiable appetite for gossip with an explanation. But then, so could Dan. Instead he stood there looking as worn-out as if he’d just gone ten rounds between the sheets with a nymphomaniac.

  It was all the provocation Molly needed. Why bother trying to haul her reputation out of the gutter at this late date? It had languished there so long, it wouldn’t be comfortable anywhere else. “That’s right, Mrs. Boudelet,” she drawled. “Just me and the doctor. Imagine that!”

  “There were lights upstairs, as well.”

  “I know.” She smiled, and tried to look thoroughly debauched. “I was in my mother’s bedroom.”

  Cadie eyed the brandy bottle and the half-empty glasses with avaricious malice. “I just bet you were!”

  Enough was enough! “And we’d like to get back to what we were doing, if that’s all right with you. Is there anything else you’d like to comment on before you leave?”

  “Just this,” Cadie proclaimed, delivering her parting shot to Dan. “You’re very well thought of in these parts, Dr. Cordell, but keeping the wrong kind of company can ruin a man’s reputation faster than frying fish with Satan. It’d be a crying shame if anything happened to change people’s fine opinion of you.”

  “Still interested in marrying me?” Molly inquired, after the door slammed shut behind the infernal woman.

  “Of course. Why would you think otherwise?”

  “Because what you just witnessed is nothing compared to
what you’d have to face if I were foolish enough to go along with your proposition. The minute I came back to this town, I felt the resentment, the dislike, the judgmental blame that’s hounded me for as far back as I can remember. Even you were ready to condemn me.”

  “And I soon saw I’d misjudged you, and changed my opinion. Maybe if you didn’t work so hard to maintain the bad-girl image, others would be more inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt, as well.”

  “People here don’t change, Dan, and they never forget. As far as they’re concerned, I’m still the same shameless creature who did nothing but add misery on top of misery to John Paget’s life, and him with only one leg to stagger around on, poor man! I’m the delinquent daughter who didn’t show up for his funeral, who left her mother to languish alone in hospital, who came back to take care of her only at the behest of a social worker, and never mind that I had no idea there’d even been an accident in the first place.”

  “Everyone held me in pretty low esteem at one time, too, Molly, and rightly so. But they don’t anymore.”

  “Because you’re a man,” she said bitterly, “and the same old double standard still applies. As long as he eventually shapes up and proves his worth, a man can be forgiven his sins—even applauded for them, because it’s natural for him to sow his wild oats. How else can he be expected to get them out of his system? But once a bad girl, always a bad girl, and I don’t think you’re ready to deal with having that label attached to your wife.”

  “I can take the heat if you can.”

  “I don’t need the aggravation, not when I’ve got a home and a lucrative business, not to mention friends and the respect of colleagues, waiting for me on the West Coast. So if you want to build a life with me and Ariel, do it on my turf and move to Seattle.”

  “Move to…?” He looked at her as if she’d suddenly grown two heads. “Maybe I haven’t made myself clear, a minute ago. I don’t want to leave the clinic. I like it there. I think I’m doing important work, that people are benefitting from what I bring to their lives. Most doctors aren’t interested in that kind of practice. If I were to leave, my partners would have a very tough time finding someone to replace me. Is any of this getting through to you?”