Except weren’t these mountains home if he had been born here?
Seeing the motel and fast-food restaurant lights in the distance, he slowed for a cooldown. The lack of physical near pain brought more thoughts to his head. For years, he had connected his identity with being from Great Falls or Washington, DC, and he’d even taken pride in that. What he knew of these mountains wasn’t something to boast about, and that notion shamed him. He wanted to leave this all behind and restore life as he had always known it. Yet wouldn’t leaving the mountains without locating the woman claiming to be his birth mother be a form of cowardice? He had never given up on anything in his life. Legs tingling with the run and chilled from the cold, misty air and his own sweat, Hunter trudged into the motel parking lot. He needed a shower, a hot meal, and something to occupy his mind.
He pushed open the door to the lobby. As usual, except during the morning breakfast, the space the size of an average home living room was empty save for a clerk behind the desk playing a handheld video game. He nodded to the kid and started up the steps to the second floor.
“Mr. McDermott?”
The sound of his name, spoken in a low but definitely mountain-accented voice, brought him up short. He spun, nearly lost his balance, and grabbed for the railing.
Ashley Tolliver stood at the bottom of the steps gazing up at him with wide, gold-flecked eyes. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but you walked right past me.”
“I’m sorry.” He took a step down, thought he probably smelled bad, and remained where he was, scarcely daring to breathe, to speculate on the reason for her presence. “I didn’t notice you.”
“Thanks. That’ll keep me humble for another day.” One corner of her mouth quivered.
Hunter’s insides quivered. It was a very fine mouth, kind of lush and full like she had gotten collagen injections, but he doubted it. Those lips looked too soft to be anything but natural—the kind of lips a man thought about kissing.
He needed another run if he was thinking of kissing a woman he scarcely knew.
He snapped his gaze to a spot over her head, where a water stain marred the whitish-gray paint on the wall. “You got my message, I take it?”
And took over a day to respond.
“I did, but I’ve been busy with patients.” She rubbed her arms as though she were cold, despite the fleece-lined hoodie she wore. “Have you had any luck?”
He crossed his own arms over his chest. He wasn’t wearing fleece or anything other than his sweat-soaked T-shirt and running shorts, and the damp chill of the air was beginning to penetrate his skin now that he was no longer moving. “I wasn’t sure about venturing into those mountains with the weather as it is.”
“Wise. I came close to getting stuck myself, and I know what I’m doing.” She glanced from his face down, then back up again, a hint of a flush warming the color in her cheeks. “I guess I caught you at a bad time, but I was passing by and saw your SUV in the lot, so thought—” She shrugged. “I can come back later.”
Suddenly his mind clicked into gear and his heart began to race with the rhythm of his recent run. “You have some information for me? You found something?”
“I did. I—” Her face sober, she avoided his eyes. “Can we talk somewhere more private?” She indicated the front desk clerk, who had set down his video game and was openly listening. “I can wait while you change. If you haven’t eaten yet, the diner on the other side of the highway is good and shouldn’t be too busy right now. That is, if you don’t have plans and, um . . .” The color in her cheeks deepened, emphasizing the shades of gold and brown in her still-braided hair and warm brown of her eyes.
She really was a pretty woman, unaffected and a little shy, but she had just come close to asking him out.
He grinned. “Give me ten minutes.” Pivoting on his heel, he took the rest of the steps in one stride and the length of the corridor in two. The gravity of her face when she said she had news for him suggested it wasn’t good, and yet he felt as though his run had pumped air into his limbs instead of fatiguing them.
WHAT WAS SHE thinking? She had just all but directly asked a man on a date to deliver bad news. She should have simply called him and suggested he come to her office tomorrow rather than stopping by his hotel, of all things. Twenty-first century and equality of women and all that didn’t matter in Brooks Ridge. Ladies still didn’t ask men to go to dinner with them. They didn’t stop by their motels to wait for them. She might roam around the mountains all time of day and night on her own, but many of her patients were strict in their religious beliefs and they wanted her as their midwife because of her faith and moral values. She had and always intended to maintain that reputation even after she got her medical degree and returned to practice.
Figuring any damage was already done and she may as well brazen it out, Ashley returned to her chair in the lobby to wait for Hunter McDermott. Hunter Brooks? Zachariah Brooks? She didn’t even know what to call him.
“Want some coffee?” The desk clerk rose to pour himself a cup from a pot on a side table. “I make it myself, so it’s pretty good.”
Cold, Ashley accepted. “I think winter’s on its way.” She took the Styrofoam cup the clerk handed to her and savored the steam coming off the top, took a tentative sip, and found he was right—the coffee was surprisingly good for hotel coffee. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we end up with snow on the Ridge in the next day or two.”
“Got some ice up there already.” The clerk set down his cup and reached for the filter basket. “Better make some more. Here comes Deputy Fox. Stops in here every night for coffee when he’s on patrol.”
Of course Jason would. The motel was convenient to the highway and the main road leading up the Ridge.
He came pushing through the lobby door, bringing a blast of cold, wet air with him and rubbing his hands together. “Cold for October. Had an accident up on the Ridge because of a patch of—Ash, is that you?” He stopped to stare at her.
“Last time I checked.” Her gaze strayed to the steps.
No sign of Hunter McDermott. No hope Jason would leave before Hunter came back. Not that it was any of Jason’s business what she did, but he would still pretend it was.
“What are you doing here?” Jason asked.
“Coffee’s ready, Deputy.” The clerk pulled a box of creamer packets from beneath the counter and began to fill the caddy beside the coffeemaker. “Got some of that hazelnut stuff you like.”
“Since when?” Ashley laughed. “You turning girlie on us drinking your coffee so sweet you can’t taste the coffee?”
“Hey, I work hard. Allow me this indulgence.” He stirred the powdered chemicals into his cup, then strode closer to Ashley and pulled out a chair beside her. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for someone.”
“A patient in a zero-star motel?”
“I couldn’t tell you if I were.”
Jason sipped at his coffee, then set down the cup and leaned forward. “The baby is doing all right so far in the hospital.”
“Thanks for telling me.” Ashley hadn’t yet known one of her babies to go to the hospital and have to stay so close to birth. “No sign of the mother?”
“Not so far.” Jason shook his head. “No hospitals or clinics reporting a hemorrhaging woman, and no bodies have turned up.”
“I don’t see how she could have survived without immediate care.” The coffee turned to acid on her tongue. “She was so bad off. I’m afraid . . . I’ve never lost a patient.”
Or had her professionalism put into question, but this would ensure that it was.
“She wasn’t exactly your patient, was she?”
“No, but I delivered that baby just the same.” She began to spin her cup between her palms, watching the overhead lights sparkle in the dark liquid. “I’m so scared for her, and what will happen to the baby?”
“If no relatives come forward, she’ll go into the foster system.”
“So
young? Babies need lots of love and care. I’m not sure a foster mom would give that. At least the ones I’ve known are too overworked—” The thud of footfalls on the steps stopped her from getting wound up about the potential neglect of a baby she had caught under such awful circumstances.
She glanced up to see Hunter turning the corner into the lobby. He stopped short at the sight of her with Jason, one dark brow raised in query, the rest of him looking fine in black jeans and a sweater beneath a leather jacket.
Ashley’s mouth went dry. She was sitting next to possibly the best-looking man in three counties, but Jason’s looks didn’t move the feminine side of her as did this city engineer with the too-modulated voice and a story that didn’t add up now that she had done her homework.
“Sorry I took so long, Miss Tolliver.” Hunter paced forward, bringing the aroma of an expensive aftershave, his gaze flicking between her and Jase.
Ashley stood. “Mr. McDermott, this is Deputy Jason Fox, an old friend of my family.”
“And probably our next sheriff,” the desk clerk tossed into the awkwardness.
Jason stood, his six feet four inches a slight height advantage over Hunter’s. He held out his hand. “McDermott, have we met?”
“He’s that dude who saved the little girl’s life,” the desk clerk said.
The men shook hands, eyeing one another like two dogs on chains not quite able to reach each other, not sure if they would fight if they could.
“Mr. McDermott and I haven’t eaten dinner yet.” Ashley spoke a little too quickly. “We’re heading over to the diner.”
“Not your usual kind of patient.” Jase laughed.
“She’s been doing some research for me.” Hunter was so poised, so coolly polite. But then, he had nothing to prove as Jase probably thought he did.
Ashley tossed her coffee cup into the trash and headed for the door. “I’ll meet you there, Mr. McDermott.” She all but ran to her Tahoe, head down against an onslaught of raindrops.
Research for him indeed. He was expecting information from her, and she had it for him, but, oh, neither of them could have anticipated this bit of news.
She clicked the lock open and slid into her vehicle. The powerful engine roared to life. Lights on, wipers on, and she gunned the motor, whipping out of her parking space and onto the exit drive. From the corner of her eye, she saw Hunter heading for his Mercedes and Jase his patrol car. Good grief. Jase wasn’t going to try to join them, was he?
No, he headed in the opposite direction. A second after he hit the highway, his light flashed on. Ashley sighed in relief, then immediately felt guilty. Jase was probably on his way to an accident or domestic violence call, the two most common reasons for him to be speeding up the Ridge road. She sent up a prayer for the parties involved in whatever the situation, then pulled across the highway and into the diner parking lot.
Although the dinner hour lay upon them, the weather was keeping customers away. Only two other tables held customers, and Mary Kate looked weary and sad as she trudged across the diner to deposit full plates before one set of customers. They were teens, the least likely to tip well.
But she smiled, her face lighting up when Ashley entered, and she snatched up a menu with more energy. “I can’t believe you’re out on a night like this, Miss Ashley.”
“I was looking in on a patient nearby and decided some of Lucy’s pot roast sounded better than what I could microwave in a hurry.” She picked up a second menu. “Someone is meeting me here.”
“I hope it’s a man.” Mary Kate nudged Ashley with an elbow. “It’s about time you found yourself one and had your own babies.”
“I will when I have time.” Ashley inspected Mary Kate’s face for signs of the puffiness she had seen in her exam room.
The younger woman looked better, despite her obvious fatigue.
“How’s your cough?”
“Nearly gone. Lucy Belle gave me some cough syrup she makes with honey and lemons and it works. I said it was just a cold.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Ashley hoped Mary Kate was right.
Before she could say more, the door opened and Hunter entered.
Mary Kate’s eyes widened and she whispered, “Is that him?”
“Yes. It’s business.”
Mary Kate sighed and led Ashley to a table far from the draft of the doorway. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Sweet tea. Mr. McDermott?” Ashley addressed Hunter, who had reached the table.
“Do you have unsweetened tea?”
Mary Kate rolled her eyes. “Yes sir, we got unsweet tea for you city folk.” She set a menu before him and headed for the kitchen.
“One of your patients?” Hunter asked.
“I couldn’t tell you if she was.”
“No, I suppose you couldn’t.” He opened the menu. “What’s good here?”
“Everything, if you don’t care about calories.”
“I just had a two-hour run, half of it uphill. I think I won’t worry about them tonight.” He ducked behind the menu.
Mary Kate returned with their iced tea. They placed their orders, both choosing the pot roast, though they hadn’t discussed it, and Mary Kate returned to the kitchen.
The teens on the far side of the room laughed too loudly. The older couple in another corner spoke too softly, though nonstop judging from their perpetually moving lips, but silence reigned over Ashley and Hunter’s table. The ripping open of her straw paper sounded like she had shredded a week’s worth of newspapers, the ice tinkling against the glass like breaking plate glass. She didn’t know this man, yet she now knew more about his birth than she knew about her own. She found him uncomfortably attractive, and the video suggested he was a kind person, yet the story he had told her to persuade her to look for his birth records didn’t match the facts.
And now she needed to tell him.
Across the table, he set his straw aside without opening it, squeezed the lemon wedge into the brown liquid of the tea, and raised the glass to his lips without drinking, then set it down with a decisive thunk. “So what is it you found out?”
“No beating around the bush?” Ashley took too big a drink of her tea. “No polite small talk?”
“Would you prefer to discuss the weather first? Or what about the latest baseball scores?”
“Baseball season is over.”
He laughed. “So it is. That tells you how much I pay attention to sports.”
Some of the tension left the table.
“I don’t either, but my brothers are both huge baseball fans.”
“You have brothers?”
“Two older ones. They are both doctors, one in DC and one in Atlanta. You?”
“One of each. Both much older, married with children, and lawyers in DC.”
“Just like your parents, and you chose to be an engineer.”
“I won’t ask how you know about my parents. The news, right?”
“I saw your mother one morning.”
Hunter pushed his glass aside. “I guess she’s legally my mother.”
“Yes, your mother.” Despite the sugar in her tea, the liquid tasted bitter on her tongue and she, too, shoved her glass aside so she could lean across the table, lower her voice, and still be heard. “Mr. McDermott, Hunter.” She swallowed. “I found my grandmother’s records for your birthday, for a baby boy named Zachariah, at any rate. Is that you?”
“That was the name on my original birth certificate. Zachariah Hunter Brooks, I presume. I had the Zachariah changed legally fourteen years ago.”
“I wondered. I figured.” Ashley began to shred the napkin wrapped around silverware in the center of the table. “The Z on your business card.”
“So what did you find—that you can tell me, that is?”
“That there’s no way the woman who left a message on your voice mail is your mother.”
“What?” Hunter closed his hand over Ashley’s shredding the napkin and his eyes locked with
hers. “What are you saying?”
“As you already know, there’s nothing about your father in the birth records, and . . . and your mother died an hour after you were born.”
CHAPTER 10
HUNTER GRIPPED ASHLEY’S clasped hands like a lifeline keeping him from sliding off a boat into a raging sea. The diner dipped and whirled around him, odors of fried chicken and spicy gravy too strong in his nostrils, his mouth dry, his heart a thudding lump somewhere south of his stomach.
“I don’t understand.” His voice croaked like a smoker’s. “My mom, Virginia McDermott, said—”
What had she said? Nothing about his biological mother, just about being appalled how Sheila Brooks had chosen to use a midwife at home instead of a clean hospital with modern equipment.
“If she had, she’d still be alive.”
He didn’t realize he had spoken aloud until Ashley gave him a quizzical glance. “If who had done what?”
“I’m sorry.” He released her hands and leaned back in the booth, reaching for his tea. “If she had gone to a hospital instead of using a midwife, she probably wouldn’t have died.”
“You think?” Ashley’s brown eyes grew cold. She gripped the edge of the table with white-knuckled fingers. “My grandmother delivered over four thousand babies in her lifetime and only lost one mother.”
“Mine, apparently.” He could be cool as well.
“Apparently. According to Gramma’s records and what an autopsy and other records show, your mother would have died had she gone to the finest hospital in the best city. She hemorrhaged. Sometimes it can’t be stopped.”
“Transfusions.”
“If her blood type can be found in enough quantity.”
“Type O negative.”
He felt like a heel for having said Sheila Brooks would have lived had she not used a midwife.
Ashley nodded. “Yours?”
“Yes. It’s one reason why my family worries about my job. I go to a lot of remote places, and if there’s an accident, I could be in trouble.”
“I’m so sorry.” The warmth returned to her eyes and voice. “About your mother. She was so young and—”
The Mountain Midwife Page 9
