A Mother for His Adopted Son

by Lynne Marshall

  Maybe he deserved to hear her side of the story. She owed it to him. “I know how it feels, as a kid, to always want my dad home, because he never was. That’s probably why I’m so sensitive to that for Dani. But unlike you with Dani, when my dad was home he’d be completely distracted with work. I’d be, like, ‘Daddy, look what I drew,’ and he’d glance up from his paperwork and say, ‘Not now.’ Sometimes I’d be quiet like a good little girl and wait for him, but I felt as though he didn’t even know I was in the same room.”

  Sam pulled her closer, wrapping her in his arms. “You deserved better than that.” He kissed the top of her head.

  “I’m not asking for sympathy, I’m just saying that kind of experience doesn’t make for ‘natural’ skills in parenting, like you’ve experienced.”

  He went still for a heartbeat, then sighed. “Trust me, if I can do it, you can do it.”

  Maybe she should be flattered that he felt open enough to tell her his plans, but she had plans, too. And she needed to think about those plans as well, but he pulled her back toward him. They snuggled down again and kissed a few more times. Her mind drifted to other points of anxiety in her life—ignoring her art, her love-hate relationship with her job, loving the patients but not the administrative part and feeling pushed to run a department. She stopped the kiss in the middle.

  “My grandmother’s retirement is getting closer and closer and soon, if I don’t figure something out, they’ll expect me to be the head of the department, which means administrative meetings and more responsibility. Where will that leave my painting? Honestly, I’m feeling trapped.”

  “Is this your father’s or grandmother’s idea?”

  “Both, but mostly my father’s.”

  “Then tell him you don’t want that responsibility. Tell him you want to go back to working part-time so you can still pursue your painting.”

  It sounded so logical, but Sam didn’t know her father as she knew her father. “It’s not that easy.”

  He didn’t push her on the topic. Maybe he sensed what she knew firsthand, that there was no saying no to Jerome Rimmer.

  He went quiet for a second. “Do I make you feel trapped?”

  “No.” She lifted her head to make eye contact. “No. But I can’t be your babysitter, Sam, or a stand-in parent for Dani.”

  “That’s the last thing I want.”

  “If we become a couple, I don’t want to feel second in line to your job, because that’s how I always felt with my dad. Nor do I ever want Dani to feel that way.”

  “I understand. That’s the last thing in the world I’d want, either. And I really don’t want to interfere with your art.” He held her close, ran his fingers over her hair. “We’ll work something out. I just need some time to think about this.”

  Right, men were task-oriented problem solvers. But this wasn’t an easy-to-solve situation. She didn’t have a clue what he’d come up with, but right now she was exhausted and couldn’t summon a thought about what she should do, so she let him hold her, satisfied she’d said her piece. She’d let him know her fears, and why she was the way she was, totally ambivalent about his big family plans, and he’d accepted her concerns. But the most important thing of all was that they’d come closer as a couple tonight.

  * * *

  They’d taken their worries and fears and acted on them with caveman sex just now, the one thing they seemed to do best together. At least from Sam’s view it was the least complicated part of their relationship. Plus it fit right in with his lifelong habit of trying to prove himself worth keeping. He knew how to make her lose it, and did it as often as he could.

  He wasn’t using her. He respected her completely, and he loved how she got along with his son. He could see a future for them, but they’d only started dating. Maybe it had been a boneheaded idea to announce how he wanted a big family. He was lucky she hadn’t run for the hills.

  It was his time-to-be-honest moment, and since Andrea had drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t avoid thinking about it. He wanted to be around her as much as possible. They both led complicated lives, and he felt guilty keeping her from her painting. He understood her inner battle about always having to create time for her passion, as if it didn’t mean as much as the more practical job of making a decent living while helping others. Maybe he could come up with a way that she could do both?

  What if he asked her to move in with them?

  If she did, she could paint every evening if she wanted to. He admired her talent, wanted nothing more than for her to feel fulfilled. He and Dani would learn to respect and honor her need to paint and stay out of her way when she did. He had a perfectly available spare bedroom he could turn into a studio for her, too.

  Okay, his solution sounded more practical than romantic, and also scared the daylights out of him. Maybe he should think more about this first before he brought it up. But he had to be honest with himself.

  I want her here. I see a future with her. I...I think I love her.

  He shook his head, suddenly needing to take an extra breath. He did. He loved her. But she was all tangled up with job changes and a demanding father, not a great time for a woman to fall in love. And how could he tell her he loved her when he hadn’t been completely honest with her about his family, and how he’d been the foster kid left alone until the Murphys had taken him in? When would he quit feeling unworthy of being loved because his mother had walked away from him? Wasn’t he in charge of his life now? So why couldn’t he come clean with Andrea and tell her he’d been an only child like her, and in two completely different ways they had both been abandoned.

  Because it still hurt too much, and he didn’t want her sympathy. He’d proved himself by becoming a successful doctor, yet why did he still feel unworthy of a woman’s love?

  It hurt too much to let the old pushed-down feelings out, so he focused back on Andrea and her issues. She needed to figure out how to deal with her father. It would be a shame if his overbearing attitude chased Andrea out of the profession. The way she’d painted Dani’s iris was uncanny. No digital computer program could duplicate what she’d captured with her artistic eye. What she’d done for Dani was nothing short of a miracle. Just like that eye peeking through the keyhole painting. People were her canvases, and didn’t the saying go that the eye was the mirror to the soul? What she did on the job was nothing short of art. Andrea had a gift that needed to be shared with the world, whether on canvas or with glass eyes and silicone ears.

  There had to be some way he could help her. Should he confront her father for her? No, that was her business, but it ticked him off that Jerome made Andrea’s life so difficult.

  Now his head was spinning a mile a minute. He wanted to solve her problem because he truly cared about her. He knew he couldn’t resolve her issues, that it was totally up to her to work it out with her father. But wasn’t the hospital redoing the lobby? Wouldn’t they be looking for new artwork once they remodeled?

  Those big splashy paintings on the walls at her house would be the perfect style for a modern hospital. Who did he need to talk to about that?

  Then the one painting in particular that stood out from all the others at her house came to mind, the single eye peeking through a door keyhole. In his opinion, it was a masterpiece, and no doubt featured the skill she’d developed in her apprenticeship as an ocularist. The iris. The mirror to the soul. And the world was filled with billions of people with their own individual versions.

  She’d never run out of subjects to paint.

  Sleep would probably never come tonight. He’d at least diverted his thoughts from old painful ones to Andrea’s concerns. He smiled with satisfaction into the dark because he’d found a way for Andrea to share her talent with the world. At the hospital. Genius!

  Now all he had to do was convince her to face her father and tell him to back off, to let he
r do her job the way she wanted, the way things were right now. Being a department head might hold prestige for Dr. Rimmer, but Andrea was a modern woman, why couldn’t she have it all on her terms? Not everyone was meant to be a department administrator. She had an artist’s soul.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TELEVISION NEWS WAS playing the minute Sam and Andrea hit the hospital lobby the next morning. The huge flat screen on the farthest wall ran pictures of death and destruction in Mexico, with captions. A drug cartel had bombed several places, one being the village where one of the drug traffickers who’d cooperated with the police lived. As usual, the innocents had paid the price.

  The explosions and subsequent fires had taken hundreds of lives and caused countless injuries across the countryside, leaving only rubble and near total devastation in one quiet border village between Mexico and the United States. The hospitals were overflowing and emergency personnel stretched beyond their limits. The area needed help, and even the Red Cross didn’t seem to be enough.

  Andrea stood with her mouth open, reading the horrible story. Sam put his arm around her for comfort and it occurred to him that was the first time he’d made a public display of his affection for her at the hospital. Despite the horrible news, the comforting part felt good.

  “Hey, Dr. Marcus,” a passing young resident said. “Terrible stuff, right?”

  “Unbelievable. So senseless,” he replied, still trying to get his head around the incident.

  “A few of us are making plans to head down to Mexicali this weekend to help out. Someone needs to triage those patients in Cuernavaca. Is your passport up to date?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why don’t you come, too?”

  Sam glanced at Andrea, who wore an uncertain expression, and he held off accepting, saying he’d think about it.

  The resident seemed gung ho on helping, and recognizing Andrea he continued, “Aren’t you from the anaplastology department? You should go, too,” he said to her. “The explosion and fire probably left a lot of people with facial injuries. There might be all kinds of ways you could help.”

  This young, long-haired resident’s enthusiasm was almost palpable, and compelling, and it was quickly rubbing off on Sam.

  “I, uh...” Andrea seemed stumped by his challenge.

  Sam stepped in. “We’ll definitely think about it and get back to you, Anthony. When are you planning to leave?”

  “Tomorrow, 6:00 a.m. The sooner we get there, the better. The border town is only about four hours away—we’ve already arranged for four free vans from the local car dealership.” He said that part to Andrea, as if it might help her make up her mind. “And we plan to come back late Sunday. We’re trying to get the hospital to donate supplies, too. We’re still working out the details, but I’ll definitely get back to you later.”

  As it was Friday morning, the new doctor had a lot to work out in a very short time, but judging by his exuberance, and seeing a little bit of himself in the guy, Sam had no doubt all would be arranged in record time.

  “Yeah, give me a call,” Sam said, putting his hand at the small of the back of the mildly stunned lady beside him to guide her toward the elevator. They didn’t say a thing about the medical mission plans as they walked. Once at the elevators, where he needed to go up and she down, he pecked her on the cheek, liking the freedom of letting the world know—well, the hospital, anyway—that he and Andrea were a definite item.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said, enjoying the subtle twinkle in her eyes after the kiss. She must’ve liked his public display of affection, too. “Oh, by the way, is your passport up to date?” he asked, just before stepping into a nearly full elevator.

  Her eyes widened and she gave a closed-mouth huff in reply.

  * * *

  If Sam expected her to drop everything, pack up and head south at a moment’s notice, he’d better think again. Though she had to admit that for one split second she’d found the offer intriguing. Frustrated about being put on the spot, she got in the next elevator going down.

  What about Dani? Sam might not be married, but he wasn’t a single guy anymore. He couldn’t just drop everything and travel to parts unknown. He had a son to think of. If she did go, and there was a big “if” about that, who’d look after Dani? The mere fact that Dani was always her first concern made her stop and think. She was already in over her head with the Marcus men.

  The elevator door closed. She was the only person heading to the basement.

  More truth, who was she to judge how Sam and Cat bartered time and money? The lady cared deeply for Dani. Andrea had seen it with her own eyes whenever Cat had brought Dani in for his appointments, and she probably loved having him around her boys, as well. He was such a sweetie.

  She got out of the elevator and headed down the dreary green and beige linoleum hallway toward her department.

  Andrea had to admit, until she decided whether to go or stay, whatever Sam worked out in order to take this last-minute medical mission trip was between Cat and Sam.

  What she needed to do was search her soul about whether to go or not. The thought made a band tighten around her head.

  Andrea opened the door, checking her watch. Her first appointment was in ten minutes and she needed to get the custom prosthesis ready for attachment. She rushed around, gathering everything she’d need when the patient entered the department.

  From his records she knew he was a veteran who’d survived two tours in Afghanistan, only to return home and get his ear bitten off by a neighbor’s Rottweiler. From personal experience, he was an affable guy who just wanted to look normal again. Surgical reconstruction had been ruled out because the damage was too great, so he’d been coming to Andrea for custom prosthetic restoration. He’d decided against surgical magnet placement and instead had undergone a small but important bone anchor procedure, which allowed her to create a bar-clip attachment for the perfectly duplicated mirror-image ear, if she did say so herself.

  Greg smiled widely, his ball cap tilting low over what was left of his right ear, hiding the fact he didn’t have one. She greeted him, and after a little small talk about how his surgery had gone, she revealed the silicone ear she’d made to match his skin tone and the existing ear.

  “Wow, this looks weird but great,” he said. “I’ll be two-eared again.” He chuckled.

  “You won’t be lopsided anymore,” she said, motioning for him to sit as she adjusted the lights for best visibility. She’d spent several hours replicating his other ear first with sketches, then in a mold, then touching it up to be a nearly perfect mirror-image match to the other side, but in silicone. “That’s new.” She always got a kick out of his tattoo sleeves, noticing he’d added a new colorful section just above his wrist on one forearm.

  “Yeah, I saw the porpoise and thought it’d be cool there.”

  While they chitchatted she removed the large flat bandage covering the implanted bar and easily clipped the new ear in place, adjusting the tilt to match the other side. “See how easy this is? Now you try.” She removed the ear and handed it to him.

  Under her tutelage, he attached his new ear, then sat and stared at himself in the mirror for several seconds, turning first this way, then that. “Wow. It looks real.”

  “Of course it looks real.” She couldn’t deny the pride she always felt when clients were happy with what she’d made for them. “It should help your hearing by twenty percent, too. Those auricles are there for a reason, you know.”

  “Look at this!” He put his ball cap back on his short-cropped military-style hair, and it was now perfectly balanced between two ears.

  “You look great.” Her smile was genuine and heartfelt. “But, to be honest, I kind of like the tilted cap look, too.”

  “Thanks, Andrea.” The sincerity pouring out of his gaze nearly melted her.<
br />
  “You’re welcome, Greg. Come back anytime you think you need an adjustment, okay?”

  “You got it.”

  Next she had an appointment in the hospital to measure a young woman who’d lost most of her nose to cancer. Andrea had been studying the woman’s photographs and wondered, since now was a perfect opportunity, if the patient might want a sexy new nose, or if she’d rather stick with a replica of what she’d been born with. It could be a touchy subject, and Andrea was working out in her head how she wanted to broach the topic when a text message came through.

  Lunch?

  She knew exactly who it was and texted back.

  What time?

  After she’d finished her bedside appointment, having discovered that the young lady would indeed love a new nose, specifically one like Reese Witherspoon’s—which put a smile on Andrea’s face—she met up with Sam in the hospital cafeteria, excited about her next project but even more excited about seeing him.

  Then she ran into her father. “Andrea, you’re just the person I wanted to see.”

  “Hi, Dad.” Why did she always go on alert whenever he spoke to her? “You know Sam Marcus, right?”

  Her father glanced distractedly at Sam, only acknowledging him with a quick nod. Sam had put out his hand for a shake, but when Jerome made no attempt to do the same, he withdrew it.

  “Your grandmother tells me you still haven’t filled out the job application.”

  “That’s right. I’ve been pretty busy.”

  “Too busy to apply for the biggest job of your life? If they don’t get applicants from inside—and let’s be honest, you’re the only person suited for the job at this hospital—they’ll send the posting out to the public.”

  “Maybe that would be a good thing.”

  “You’re talking nonsense and you know it,” he scolded. The man never cared who was within hearing range when he berated her or when he was on a mission. “I’ll expect to hear you’ve applied for the job before the end of the day.”