P.S. You're a Daddy!

by Dianne Drake

  He put the last of the plates in the cabinet and shut the door. “Sometimes that’s the way it works out. Or maybe I did some last-minute arranging so I could have dinner with you.”

  “I really am sorry for the late invitation, but—”

  He thrust out his hand to stop her. “I understand. You were applying New York City ways to Sugar Creek. Back in New York I would have done the same thing because you’re right, business and personal pursuits don’t mix. But it’s different here.”

  “Which is kind of nice, isn’t it?”

  He smiled. “Most of the time, yes. So, about that walk. There’s a place I want to show you. I used to camp there when I was a kid. Actually, I called it running away from home. Brax always knew where I was because he could see my campfire from the house, but I didn’t know that. And sometimes, if I didn’t build a fire, he’d sneak up to an adjacent ridge just to make sure I was OK.”

  “You really thought you were getting away with it?”

  “In the simple thinking of a child, I knew I was getting away with it.”

  “How long did it take until you went home?”

  “Always the next morning. I suppose I thought if I showed up at the breakfast table like I did every morning, Brax would never know I’d run away the night before. And he never mentioned it. Every single time I came back, there he was, sitting at the table, reading his morning paper, drinking his orange juice.”

  “So, how was the secret revealed? Or was it?”

  “I was getting ready to go away for college, going through all the obnoxious things boys do at that age. But things were changing. I was with Brax full time by then, and I knew I’d never see my old man again.

  “He wasn’t dead, but I just had this sense that it was over and he’d moved entirely into whatever kind of life he wanted. Turned out that was exactly what happened. But at the time, even though I was relieved overall, I was still feeling...abandoned. And dealing with moving away, starting college...rough times.

  “Anyway, I went on a little bender, shall we call it. Got myself pretty drunk the night I graduated from high school, ended up in jail. Then, instead of coming to my rescue, the way Brax always had, he left me there. Three days! Thought it might teach me a lesson.”

  Beau winced at the memory. “Oh, yeah. The food was awful, the cot was awful, there was nothing to do but stare at the walls. Three days of it was all I needed, and when Brax finally came and got me I was angry. Decided to avoid him for a day or two, and went camping at my spot.

  “But Brax followed me up this time, said he didn’t want to miss the opportunity of running away with me, maybe for the last time. Then he told me how he’d spent nights watching me from the house below, and as often as not from the next ridge over. Said he’d thought about telling me he knew my secret, but that sometimes secrets served real purposes.”

  “How’d you feel about that?”

  “A little angry at first that he’d kept it a secret, but overall glad he finally told me because I was mature enough to realize that he had simply been taking care of me the best way he could. When he told me, it became a turning point in our relationship, I think. We went from adult-child to equals, and it was nice.”

  Hurt, then relieved? Maybe that’s the way he’d feel if she revealed the truth about the baby. But deep down she knew that was over-simplifying a matter that was much more complicated than a grandfather looking after his grandson. “Do you believe that secrets can serve real purposes?”

  “Only if they’re meant to help. Not hurt.”

  The weight of her secret was getting heavier all the time now, and she wondered about its purpose. Was it changing now that she knew Beau, even had feelings for him? Because right now all she could think about was who would be helped if she told him, and who would be hurt.

  Suddenly, Deanna felt emotionally drained, which brought on physical lethargy. “Could we go to your runaway place another time, Beau? It’s been a long day, and I’m only now realizing how tired I am. So all I’d like to do is crawl into bed.”

  “Are you feeling OK?” he asked, instantly concerned.

  She shrugged. “Mostly tired.” She turned, started to head for the stairs, but as she walked past Beau, he reached out and took her by the hand, and there was nothing in her that could make her pull away from him.

  “I do want to be your friend,” he said, stepping closer to her. “Not your colleague but your friend. Someone you can trust, or turn to, because I get the sense that you’re lost, Deanna, and struggling with something that’s bothering you. But I want to help, if you’ll let me.”

  “I appreciate that, Beau. I really do. But it’s complicated.”

  “Any more complicated than asking you to step into the middle of this mess I call my life and fix it?”

  She sighed. “That’s what I do, though. I fix things.”

  “You fix everybody else’s things. But why won’t you let someone help you fix whatever needs fixing in your life? Because I do care, Deanna. Maybe even more than you’re comfortable with.”

  With that, he pulled her into his arms and simply held her. Nothing else. Just wrapped his arms around her and let her lean there, feeling safe and protected. Most of all, feeling cared for. She knew she couldn’t have it for ever yet for a few moments she simply wanted to linger and pretend that this was what her for ever could be about. Being held, enjoying the feel of being pressed tight to him. The feel of his muscles, his strength.

  It was only when comfort turned to sexual tingling that she pulled back, quite surprised to be having that reaction. Looking up at him, at his face, she saw his smile, and what else? She looked again, wondering if his eyes might be betraying some of that same sexual awareness. Or was she simply misreading a kind act from a kind man? Was she seeing what she hoped to see and not what was there? “I appreciate you wanting to help me but—”

  “Try me, Deanna. Just trust me, and try me. You keep telling me that Brax and I need to meet in the middle, but I think you and I need to do that too.”

  She wanted to. But this was so hard for her. Opening up was so very difficult because no one besides Emily had ever wanted to care, or even listen. She had become proficient in locking it all inside herself.

  Beau was genuine, though, and he did want to help her. How far could she go with Beau and not become so overwhelmed with guilt that it affected the baby? Or hurt Beau, if she decided to tell him?

  She’d come so close to telling him once, and the longer she put it off, the more difficult it would be. Now it wasn’t just about what was best for the baby. It was also about what was best for Beau. It was time to take that first step.

  “Look, I owe you some honesty here. What’s going on with me isn’t about friendship or professionalism, or where or how to draw the line. You’re not looking for a relationship and neither am I. So why get ourselves involved in anything other than the ways we’re already involved? And I think it would be very easy to get involved, Beau. I’m attracted to you. I won’t lie about that. If I were looking for a man in my life, I’d be looking for someone like you. But I’m not in a place yet where I want that kind of involvement because I have...other priorities.”

  “Wow. When you said you’d be honest, you meant it, didn’t you?”

  “It’s all I have. And I’m sorry. But neither of us is ready for what could happen here. Especially when I tell you the second part of all this.”

  “Where it gets even more complicated?” he asked. “Because I’d like to respond to the first part before we move on, if I may.”

  She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “You don’t have to. I understand that you may be feeling responsible for me because I’m...pregnant. And maybe a little sorry because my life’s in an obvious mess. But you don’t have to worry about me because I can take care of myself. And I’m sure some of this is ab
out my hormones. Which is why I want to be honest with you about everything. Because there’s more to it, Beau. The baby I’m carrying...”

  He stopped her confession when he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. Then stepped forward, tilted her face to his and kissed her very gently on the lips. Amazingly, she didn’t resist. In fact, she rose up on tiptoe as the kiss lingered on, and twined her arms around his neck. Then thought better of it and pushed back from him.

  “I think maybe your hormones might be affecting me too, causing me to have thoughts your hormones might want but I’m not sure you do. Which means it’s time for me to go,” he said with a wink, as he headed out the door.

  “So much for telling him the truth,” she said, as her hand slid across her belly. “The thing is, I told him the wrong part of it.” The very worst of the wrong part, that she was attracted to him. “So next time kick me,” she said to the baby. “When I open my mouth and the wrong things start to come out, kick me as hard as you can. Please.”

  * * *

  “When?” Deanna asked. She was too groggy to be coherent, but the shrill voice on the phone was quick to cut through her stupor. She glanced at the clock. Ten after three? Seriously? She’d been tossing and turning for hours, thinking about that kiss, the lead-up, its aftermath, and all the things it might or might not imply, trying hard to convince herself it really hadn’t meant a thing. So, by her calculation, she’d been asleep only about an hour.

  “Did you call Dr. Alexander?”

  Somewhere in Janice Parsons’s panic what she thought she heard was that Beau wasn’t available, and Deanna didn’t know what that meant.

  “OK, Janice. Listen to me. I don’t suppose you know if Lucas has ever done this before.” Janice didn’t know, and the social workers still hadn’t found any relatives to look after him. “OK, I’m on my way. But by any chance, does someone in your family have an inhaler?” No such luck.

  “Look, I’m going to run by the clinic, grab some medicine, and I’ll be there as fast as I can. In the mean time, have Lucas sit up then try doing something that calms him down, like reading him a story. And call me back...for anything.”

  By the time she’d clicked off with Janice, she’d pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and was on her way to her car, shoes in hand. Once in the car, she dialed Beau and waited until the phone flipped over to voicemail, then left a message. “We have an emergency at Janice Parsons’s. Lucas seems to be having an asthma attack. I’m going to grab meds from the clinic and go on out to see him. If you get this, I’ll meet you at her place. It’s number eleven on Old Mill Road.”

  She clicked off, curious why Beau wasn’t answering. On impulse, she dialed Brax’s number. The old man picked up on the second ring.

  “Is Beau there?” she asked him.

  “He went out on a house call earlier. Horseback. Why?”

  “I have a three-year-old having an asthma attack, and I’m on my way to make a house call myself. I’m going to have to stop by the clinic and grab an inhaler or whatever you’ve got, and I was hoping Beau could go out there with me.”

  “I’ll leave him a message, and in the meantime I’ll go on over and get what you’ll be needing rounded up,” Brax said, then hung up.

  Minutes later, after what seemed like the longest drive down the mountain road ever, Deanna pulled up at the clinic and was greeted by Brax and Joey standing at the clinic’s front door with supplies—meds, inhalers, portable oxygen. And Brax had his medical bag in his hand as well.

  “You don’t have to come,” she protested, as Joey loaded the supplies into her back seat.

  “You don’t know the roads, so Joey’s going to drive,” Brax stated.

  “And you?”

  “Along for the ride.”

  “Carrying your medical bag?”

  “You’ve got yours, I’ve got mine. If Beau shows up, he’ll probably bring his. What’s the big deal who has what?”

  “You’re an impossible old man, you know that?” she said, moving over into the passenger’s seat as Joey climbed behind the wheel and Brax took his place in the rear. “I can see why Beau gets frustrated. And you know he’s likely to kill one, or all three of us, when he finds out you’re making a house call at this time of the night.”

  “Then we won’t tell him if he doesn’t show up,” the old man retorted.

  “OK, if you’re going to come along, then you’ve got to listen to me tell you why Beau needs help here. He can’t handle it all alone, Brax. He needs someone to run the office. A nurse or medical assistant to help with the medical end of things. And I’m even thinking he could use another doctor. Maybe a specialist like a pediatrician.

  “None of this means you won’t be able to practice again. But if he keeps up the practice of making house calls, it’s not going to be you making these middle-of-the-night runs. So think about the alternatives because something’s got to happen, and soon. Even with his mornings off he’s working at a crazy, unhealthy pace.”

  “But I managed all those years and—”

  “And you didn’t have a life,” Joey interrupted. “You worked twenty hours a day and slept four. Which got you where you are now. But Beau’s got more sense than that.”

  “Everybody’s ganging up on me,” Brax snorted. Then he went silent for the rest of the trip to Old Mill Road, and Deanna hoped he was considering all sides of Beau’s dilemma. Because if he wasn’t, and he truly couldn’t see the value in bringing in others to work with Beau, this wasn’t going to be a solvable situation. Which meant that Beau would return to New York and Brax would have to sell his practice to someone else.

  It wouldn’t make anybody happy. Not Brax, not Beau. And, for some strange reason, not even her. To see it end would be sad.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JANICE PARSONS’S HOUSE, where every single light was on, was shining like a beacon on a very dark, secluded road. “He’s breathing better,” Janice said, running up to the car before Deanna had a chance to get out. “But I can’t do this. I have my own kids to take care of, and this scared them to death.”

  “Where is he?” Deanna asked, trying to ignore the woman’s panic.

  “Upstairs, second door on the right. My husband’s with him.”

  Her husband, a huge lumberjack-looking man, was sitting in a rocking chair with Lucas, who was audibly wheezing but not in the throes of a very bad attack. When Deanna approached them, the man said nothing but simply stood and handed over the boy then exited the room.

  “Lucas,” Deanna said, setting him down on the bed. “Are you feeling better?”

  Huge tears welled in his eyes and he sniffled in a ragged breath but didn’t say a word.

  “He doesn’t talk,” Janice said from the doorway. “Doesn’t eat. Doesn’t interact with my children. And now this...I don’t know what to do for him.” Her panic had given way to discouragement. “I can’t keep him any longer, Miss Lambert. He’s taking too much time away from my children, and...”

  Deanna nodded then waved Janice off, not to be rude but to be silent while she listened to Lucas’s chest. There was definitely some pronounced wheezing going on bilaterally, but nothing as bad as she’d expected, and she wondered if Janice had overreacted or exaggerated simply because she was at her wits’ end.

  “Lucas,” she said, pulling her stethoscope out of her ears, “do you know what this is?” She pulled an inhaler out of her pocket and showed it to the boy, but he neither looked at it nor did he respond. So she forged on. “It’s going to help you breathe better. When I put the white part in your mouth, I’d like you to take a deep breath. Can you do that for me?”

  Again there was no response. But she needed him to acknowledge, in some way, that he knew what she was about to do. “Lucas, look at me. This is very important. I want to give you something to help you brea
the, but I need to know if you understand what to do. Can you take that deep breath for me when I put the white part in your mouth? You don’t have to swallow it or anything. Just wrap your lips around it. Can you do that for me?”

  Again there was no real response except a quick glance at her. One fast look then his eyes were cast downward again. But that’s all she needed. Her opening. He was listening and he did understand. The rest of it was about one very sad little boy who missed his mommy and daddy, and while her memories were dim, she did recall feeling the way Lucas had to be feeling. “OK, just open your mouth a little for me, and...” When he did, she slipped the inhaler mouthpiece just past his lips. “Take a deep breath for me, Lucas. A very deep breath.”

  The boy obeyed, and on cue Deanna pumped the bronchodilator into him. “Now, let me count to twenty for you, and when I get to twenty, that’s when your breathing will start to get better. OK?” Of course, it didn’t work that quickly, or that easily, but if he believed it did, she was home free.

  He nodded, so she started to count. “One...two...three...”

  “And you said you were afraid you might not have the right natural instincts to be a mother,” Beau said from the doorway.

  “Thirteen...fourteen...fifteen...”

  “I think you’ve got it all,” he continued.

  “Nineteen...twenty. Now, is your breathing better?” she asked.

  Lucas didn’t look up but he did nod in the affirmative.

  “Good, now I want you to scoot back and lean against the pillows, and just rest there for a few minutes. Can you do that for me, Lucas? Rest against the pillows, sitting up. It’s important that you stay sitting up.”

  “His vital signs?” Beau asked, stepping into the room.

  “Blood pressure a little up, respirations and pulse a little up. Nothing critical. And your grandfather was the one who technically prescribed the bronchodilator, if that’s what you’re worried about.”