The Doctor's Little Secret
Page 6
She meant cold, he registered. “I’m reserved with adults but not around kids.”
“Dealing with children in an office is nothing like having them underfoot day and night. You’re not suited to fatherhood, not by yourself.” She sounded regretful.
“I’ve changed.” Or was about to. That small, shaky voice had touched Russ deep inside. “I’ve bought a three-bedroom house. And I—”
“Russ! This isn’t about the number of bedrooms you own!” Janine seemed to be picking up steam. “This is about your ego, or guilt, or whatever’s motivating you. If you were ready to settle down, you’d have done it by now. You know what I won’t tolerate? Your playing at being a dad and then handing her back to me in a few months. So no, I won’t consider it!”
The immature guy Janine had dated was gone, but how to convince her of that? If he didn’t produce a bombshell, he might lose his child for keeps. Then Russ remembered what she’d said a moment earlier. Lauren belongs in a family. If that was Janine’s bottom line, why not meet it?
“You interrupted me.” He took a deep breath. “I was trying to explain that I’m engaged.” He half expected the earth to open up and swallow him for such a brazen lie. It would be, Russ conceded, no more than he deserved.
But he was desperate. And he had set marriage as a goal when he moved to Villazon. At least his intentions were honorable.
He waited anxiously for Janine’s reaction.
Chapter Five
“Really?” Relief replaced his ex-girlfriend’s indignation. “Congratulations, Russ. When’s the wedding?”
Unaccustomed to lying, he hadn’t considered the ramifications, he realized with a jolt. Such as a name, vital statistics, and the scary possibility that Janine might insist on meeting the woman. “We haven’t set a date.”
“Are you certain she’s ready to become a stepmom on such short notice?” his ex pressed.
“She loves kids.” For some reason, Russ pictured Rachel. “In fact, she volunteers at a homework center.”
“Is she a teacher?”
Although tempted to agree, since that might impress Janine, he decided to stick to a scenario that required the least invention on his part. “She’s a police officer.”
“You’re engaged to a cop?” A choking noise, or perhaps stifled laughter, issued over the phone. “What do your hoity-toity parents think about that?”
He hadn’t realized Janine considered his parents snobs. Well, they were, and they probably would object to his fiancée if word reached them. Russ didn’t care.
“They’ll learn to love her. Rachel’s straightforward and honest and compassionate.” Every word rang with such conviction that he almost forgot this engagement was an invention. “You’d like her, Janine.”
Gone too far, he saw in a flash. Her next request was likely to be…
“When can we meet?”
He didn’t have an answer, but perhaps he didn’t need one. During the summers while in med school, Russ had supplemented his lab job by selling high-end cutlery, and he’d learned to spot the perfect moment to close a deal. Janine required only a nudge to seal this arrangement.
“Soon,” he promised. “I’ll have to consult her schedule. Cops work odd hours. In the meanwhile, I can pick up Lauren tomorrow.”
“You mean for a visit?” Janine hedged.
“For good.” He pushed harder. “This area’s full of kids. A real old-fashioned community. Did I mention I live in Villazon?”
“Isn’t that up north?” she asked dubiously.
“East of L.A.,” he corrected. “Adjacent to Orange County. A great area for families. How’s noon?”
“I, uh…” It seemed Janine’s usually rapid brainpower had momentarily deserted her.
“Good,” he continued as if she’d agreed. “What was that address?” To Russ’s delight, she provided it with only a trace of hesitation.
“Thanks.” Another issue struck him. “Has she got a lot of stuff? I could rent a trailer.” Collecting Lauren’s possessions would reinforce the permanence of the move.
“Most of it’s still at my parents’ home. I can hire movers but…” Janine coughed. “Russ, I’m not comfortable making this decision so hastily.”
A bit more persuasion and he’d be home free. “Janine, it’s absolutely the right choice. Lauren will have the security of growing up with her father, and Rachel and I already discussed adopting kids.” Partly true—she had mentioned that her family took in foster children. In case any doubt remained, he added, “By the way, Byron sounds like a great guy. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled that you resolved the situation.”
“That’s true.” The reference to her fiancé appeared to settle the issue. “I hope you don’t think I’m an unfeeling mother. Lauren’s a sweetheart.”
“You’re doing the best you can under unexpected circumstances. And of course you’ll be welcome to visit.” While he wasn’t crazy about the notion of Janine popping in, the familiar contact might ease the child’s transition. By then he’d have to invent a broken engagement.
“That’ll be up to Rachel, won’t it?” To his surprise, Janine chuckled. “Russell McKenzie marrying a cop. What a kick!”
“I consider myself lucky to have found her.” Doubly lucky if Rachel didn’t discover what a liar he’d become and arrest him for fraud.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She stopped, and for a beat he feared she might renege. “A trial period, Russ. How about a month?”
“That’s reasonable.” He considered suggesting they set ground rules for deciding to make custody permanent and decided against it. The less specific, the easier to talk his way out of any minor setbacks.
“Well, I’m surprised on a lot of levels, but I suppose it’s for the best,” Janine conceded. “Now I’ve got to figure out how to break the news to Lauren.”
Russ wondered how she’d planned to explain her plans to give the child to strangers. Best not to raise the issue when matters were going so well. “Please say that her father wants her. Is she even aware I exist?”
“She used to ask about you, and I told her the truth, that you weren’t ready to raise a child.” Sadness underscored the words. “My parents kept a family album for her that includes a few pictures of you. They got them from mutual friends, I guess. They felt it was important for Lauren to have a firm sense of identity.”
“They sound like wonderful people.” He owed them a great deal.
“I miss them a lot.”
“Of course you do.” Although normally he’d be glad to serve as a shoulder to cry on, Russ had another priority. “I’m glad we resolved this to everyone’s satisfaction. I’ll see you both at noon.”
After a brief goodbye, he hung up. He left his phone number, but hoped Janine wouldn’t suffer second thoughts.
He felt like an astronaut who’d launched himself into space without proper training. So many details he hadn’t considered. How to take care of Lauren on a daily basis. Meet her emotional needs after such dramatic changes. And fake an engagement.
How on earth was he going to handle that?
As Russ paced through the house, figuring out the logistics of bedrooms and bathrooms, his thoughts returned to Rachel. He’d used her name and promised to introduce her. While he might get away with a delay of one or two weeks, eventually he’d have to…
Keep his promise. Was that possible?
Only if Rachel agreed to play along. He doubted she’d ever told a lie in her forthright life, yet a child’s happiness hung in the balance.
Russ smacked a door frame with fierce resolve. He was going to make this work, no matter what. For Lauren’s sake.
ON SUNDAY, Rachel awoke in a bedroom filled with colored-glass figurines and crystal flowers. A heavy rose scent pervaded the coverlet and sheets, while an oval mirror above the vanity table showed a bleary-eyed woman far from eager to face the new day homeless.
The thick scent reminded her of a foster home where she’d stayed briefly after being
removed from her mother’s place. Rachel had been afraid to move for fear of breaking some fragile item, and sure enough, she’d stumbled into a cocktail tray covered with teacups. At least if she broke some of Connie’s stuff, she could pay for it, instead of being handed back to social workers.
In the partially open closet, she glimpsed the only clothes she’d snagged: a couple of uniforms, jeans and pullovers, their sturdy fabrics a contrast to the floral curtains at the window. On the vanity, a set of silver implements gave the cold shoulder to Rachel’s worn hairbrush.
She yearned for her condo. If she weren’t a police officer charged with upholding the law, she’d sneak in there this morning.
Last night she’d weighed her options. Too long a commute from her parents’ home, and besides, Tom and Susan Byers’s place was a madhouse. In addition to Rachel’s sister Kathy, her brother Nick and a pair of long-term foster kids, a parade of screaming infants and distressed toddlers arrived at all hours.
Rachel’s next idea had been Marta, but she couldn’t picture the two of them sharing a studio apartment. And motels were expensive, especially when you might have to stay for weeks.
You had to hand it to Connie for being a good sport. She’d not only consented to take in a stray, she’d held her temper when a couple of the guys still partying next door trooped over to investigate Rachel’s arrival, cutting a swath through her flowerbed.
“Stay as long as you like,” Connie had said after the guys departed. “That’s why I have a guest room.”
Hard to picture what kind of guest she’d envisioned when she’d outfitted the place, though. Certainly not a five-foot, eleven-inch visitor who wouldn’t be able to perform so much as a pushup without crashing into something. Still, Rachel supposed a person who owned three gift boutiques was entitled to stuff her house with gewgaws and gimcracks.
Rolling to the side, she checked the ornate bedside clock. Past 2:00 p.m. Day off, but she was wide-awake, so she might as well get up.
After gathering her stuff, she went to the hall bathroom, where she cleared china and glass doohickeys from the counter to make space for her gear. The frilly shower curtain parted to reveal a sparkling tub stocked with rosette-carved soap. Rachel made a mental note to buy real soap. Heaven help her if she showed up at the station smelling like a flower shop.
Hot water stung the abrasions on her arms and eased the residual stiffness from yesterday’s bike mishap. Man, that had been fun. She wouldn’t mind a rematch, especially if it included a heroic rescue by a hunky doctor.
She wondered how matters had gone with his ex-girlfriend and the little girl. Lauren was only a year older than Rachel had been when the court removed her from her family. Tragic about the grandparents. Losing a family couldn’t be easy, even with a backup parent available.
Dressed except for shoes, she padded down the hall, skirting a small stand topped with a candle arrangement. In the kitchen, the dark wood table shone as if newly polished, while glass-fronted cabinets displayed porcelain dishes painted with garden scenes. Rachel poked through drawers until she found a paper plate.
Connie bustled in from the connected den, wearing an embroidered peasant blouse over a ruffled skirt. With her tiny frame, slightly almond-shaped eyes and knock-’em-dead boobs, she exuded a femininity that drove guys crazy. Didn’t look a day over twenty-five, either, although she, Marta and Rachel had celebrated their thirtieth birthdays last fall.
She uttered the magic words: “How about coffee?”
“Fabulous.” Rachel eyed the patterned fabric on a kitchen chair and, postponing the moment when she had to actually sit on the thing, went to peer into the fridge. She spotted a salad, sliced chicken, carrot sticks and celery, all shrink-wrapped. “Got any breakfast-type food?”
Connie measured ground beans and water into the coffeepot. “There’s soy-based cereal and low-carb bread. By the way, you have a message. I answered your cell phone.” She produced it from a pocket. “You left it in the living room, and I didn’t want to wake you. Dr. McKenzie called.”
Hearing his name gave Rachel a thrill, as if she were a teenager with a crush. Crazy. Russ was probably seeking advice about his daughter, or else he’d left something in her car. “Thanks.” She pocketed the phone. “What’s the message?”
“He’s dropping by in half an hour. I’m glad I heard you stirring or I’d have had to wake you.” One eyebrow rose inquiringly. “He mentioned a surprise. Any clues?”
“If I knew what it was, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” Rachel took out a loaf of bread, a tub of “light” margarine and a small pot of what appeared to be green jam. The desperate would eat anything.
Connie frowned. “You put mint jelly on your toast?”
“Oh. I thought it was kiwi preserve.” Lucky it hadn’t proved to be jalapeño spread. Or, worse, some of that Thai dragon stuff. “Russ is coming here?”
“Yes.” Connie fixed a coffee tray with a miniature pitcher of skim milk and a small bowl of pink packets. “I think he likes you.”
A blip of excitement on the internal radar screen. “What makes you say that?”
“He seemed eager to see you.” As soon as the coffee finished dripping, she carried two delicate cups to the table.
Was that all? Rachel had been hoping for a revelation that only an ultrafeminine sort like Connie could provide. “Yeah, he likes me. As a friend.” Rachel tore open two pink packets, spilling white powder on the table. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” Her friend wiped the spill with a paper towel, then curled onto a seat.
Rachel sat down tentatively, afraid of crushing the dainty chair. “Did you have this furniture when you were married to Joel?”
“Yes. Why?”
“It doesn’t strike me as guy friendly.” Or big-strapping-woman friendly, either, she added mentally.
“I had delusions of civilizing that oaf. Foolish me.”
The toast popped up. Reaching for it, Rachel jostled the table and spilled coffee into the saucers. She apologized again.
“Don’t sweat it.” Despite the words, a wrinkle settled between Connie’s eyebrows. Had it been summer, Rachel might have pitched a tent in the yard to spare her friend further inconvenience. Instead, she prayed for the slope repairs to proceed rapidly.
She’d nearly finished her rather rubbery toast when a scraping noise from outside drew her attention. Russ already? But he wouldn’t approach from the rear.
Across the den, through the French-style panes of the back door, appeared the unshaven visage of Hale Crandall. He made a sorry picture in an untied terry robe, striped pajama bottoms and flip-flops.
“I have got to buy a new lock for that gate,” Connie muttered. “Usually he at least throws on some clothes.”
“Probably wants to borrow some of that beer I won. I’ll check.” Carefully shifting the chair, Rachel rose.
Outside, with the air of a man offering temptation, Hale hefted a sack of doughnuts. Rachel was thankful she was already standing, or she’d have upended the table in her haste.
She sped down two steps and through the den, past a flowered sofa and a coffee table laden with china shepherdesses. “Fantastic! Where’d you get those?” Judging by his attire, Hale hadn’t ventured out today and the Doughnut Emporium didn’t deliver, despite frequent suggestions by her co-workers.
“They’re a thank-you for yesterday’s party. Jorge dropped them off.” That would be Jorge Alvarez, a fellow detective. “I considered eating the entire dozen myself until I remembered your refugee status. There’s a couple of chocolate ones left.”
“Great!” After admitting him, Rachel carted the bag up the dividing step to the kitchen. “What kind do you like, Connie?”
Their hostess scowled at Hale’s unkempt form. The scents of cinnamon and chocolate won out, however. “Peanut sprinkles.”
At the table, Hale reversed a dainty chair and plopped his striped bottom onto it. “I saved two of them for you. How about showing some gratitude?”
“But you gotta miss an elemental male presence in the morning.” He grinned, taking pleasure in provoking her.
“It isn’t morning. And you might have the decency to put some clothes on.” Connie fetched a fork and knife and, to Rachel’s astonishment, proceeded to cut the doughnut into bite-size pieces.
Hale tilted the chair forward for a better view. “Wow, what manners! The Queen of England could take lessons.”
Connie waved a hand in front of her nose. “Hale Crandall, you stink! Do you ever take a bath?”
He feigned innocence. “Don’t I smell like I took a bath?”
“No,” Connie and Rachel responded simultaneously.
“That’s what swimming pools are for. Guess I’ll go for a dip.” As he got to his feet, Hale reached for the sack. Rachel barely managed to snatch a second doughnut. “Enjoy your breakfast, ladies.” With an insolent air, he slap-slapped down the steps and out through the den.
“Can you believe that slob!” Connie narrowed her eyes toward the patio before snapping her attention to her empty plate. “Wait a minute. He said there were two with peanut sprinkles.”
“You should have grabbed it,” Rachel advised.
“That jerk took the bag!” Recovering her poise, she shrugged. “Who cares? He made me lose my appetite, anyway.”
Rachel didn’t attempt to excuse Hale’s slovenly behavior. But she thanked him silently for preventing starvation. She’d have to lay in supplies to make it through the week.
“I can still smell him!” Snatching a can of air freshener from the counter, Connie filled the air with cloying sweetness. Rachel nearly gagged. Make it through the week? She’d be lucky to survive a couple of days.
The two women cleaned up and carried fresh coffee into the den, where a bit of channel switching revealed a basketball game. They were getting comfortable when the doorbell rang.
Russ! The prospect of seeing him sent sparkles through Rachel’s bloodstream. She followed Connie through the dining and living rooms on a twisty path between delicate furnishings.