Hidden Shadows (The Shadow Series Book 1) (5 page)

When Molly raised her brows in question, Jenna gave Molly the look she often sent the kids to convey this was not up for discussion. Molly understood and stayed silent.

“Deal?” Jenna asked, stretching out her hand.

“Deal,” Molly said, shaking on it.

When Jenna’s phone signaled—ten minutes to appointment time—she pulled it from her pocket, waved it at Molly and smiled. "And the day begins.”

Molly nodded and exhaled a cleansing breath as if their simple agreement had finally put Friday’s debacle to rest. And that was just fine with Jenna. She was as ready as anyone to put the incident, and the unfortunate man, behind her.

“Nine o’clock?” Molly asked, stepping through to her work cube and glancing at her jumbo desk calendar.

“Yes. Would you mind setting up while I go get some fuel, please? As usual we were running around like chickens with our heads cut off this morning. I only got one cup of coffee at breakfast and that was about . . . two hours ago,” Jenna estimated. "Time for another pick-me-up.”

“Of course.”

“Oh, one more thing.” Jenna snapped her fingers, pulling out a crumpled post-it from her pocket. “Know what this is?" She leaned into Molly’s space, held out the note.

Molly scanned the short, cryptic message:

Your time’s coming.

“No idea. Who wrote it?”

“Don’t know,” Jenna shrugged. “That's why I asked you. When I got here this morning, it was stuck to my office door. Thought you might’ve seen who put it there?”

Molly shook her head. “Maybe it’s a mistake. Possibly meant for another doctor? Sounds like an appointment time or something. I don’t know. I'll ask around if you want.”

“Yeah, sure. If you have time, that’d be fine. No biggie, though. They’ll get back to me if it's important.”

Wadding the paper in a ball, Jenna tossed it into Molly’s trash can, banking it. “Woo-hoo!” She threw her arms in the air, laughing, and slapped Molly's hand for a high five before taking off down the hall to the break room while Molly trailed off in the opposite direction to patient rooms.

With her few minutes of quiet, Jenna sat to sip her sweetened cup of coffee, surprised to realize (while thinking about the very thing she kept saying she was tired of thinking of and talking about) that maybe she was still a bit miffed at Molly. While Molly could obviously not be blamed for Todd’s behavior, her description of him had been way off base, and the night really had been a disaster. And how could you forget to tell someone the basics like “
She has two children
?”

Oh well, Jenna was partly to blame herself. She probably should’ve talked to Todd on the phone first, emailed, something. Her fault for not communicating with him before the first meeting.

Her fault for accepting in the first place.

She wasn’t sure why she was the guinea pig for office set-ups. There were other singles that worked at Hearts and Hands.

Did she seem desperate? Worse yet, was she desperate?

No. No, you are not
, she assured herself, swallowing a large gulp of coffee.

Of course she wasn’t. She was independent, had a good career, and was genuinely happy with her life.

Though she could admit to feeling a bit lonely on those weekends and holidays when Keith actually took the kids, for the most part, she was fulfilled, happy and just fine single.

She had her kids, her church, her work, her friends.

And Molly was not just a co-worker, but a friend, so Jenna grudgingly guessed she should be forgiven.

Though it may have started out as Physician and Assistant between the two of them, their relationship had evolved into much more over the years.

Molly had first come to the clinic about four years ago, looking lonely and a bit scared—escaping from a bad relationship if memory served. She was a cousin or step-cousin or some relation to another staff member who’d moved on years ago. Their recommendation is what got her in the door.

Her experience and eagerness landed her the job.

She was just what Jenna had been looking for.

At the time, Jacy was three and Jenna was happy with a twenty-hour-a-week workload. But Dawson and the divorce came soon, and being a part-time stay-at-home mom wasn’t an option anymore, so Jenna furthered her education and expertise in her favored field—maternity and newborn care—and the clinic rewarded her with a wing of the building that now served as her own practice.

With pride and gratitude for the new space, realization came too. More hours and a dedicated wing brought more patients. That in turn meant more scheduling, appointments, paperwork, and general office duties. The solution to the additional work came in Molly’s hiring.

Through the years, Molly had not only been the organized professional Jenna needed, but she’d been there personally, too. She’d seen Jenna through the divorce and the numerous ups and downs of attempted relationships since, always offering a listening ear of understanding and encouragement. The kids had come to love her, too, since she’d pitched in a time or two if work kept Jenna late or Keith pulled one of his disappearing acts.

Sometimes Jenna caught a glimpse of the shy girl Molly was when she’d first entered Hearts and Hands, but mostly now she was just Molly . . . co-worker, friend, and confidant.

Jenna’s phone made its final chime, telling her it was 9:00 AM.

She poured the remainder of her coffee down the sink, rinsed the mug, and gliding down the hall, took the chart from the basket by the door to refresh her memory on the patient and how she could lend her services.

Ben had made his way, shakily, into the Hearts and Hands Clinic in south Nashville with Heidi at his side.

After taking in the surroundings of the lobby—round-bellied women and their men, with the latter looking as out of place as Ben felt—he and Heidi were led from the waiting area by a slender woman with a nametag that read, ‘Molly,’ pinned to her top.

The trio walked to one of the lengthy hallways branching from the lobby, passed beneath a large arch with Perinatal Consulting Services displayed on its curve. Now, Ben and Heidi sat in a surprisingly spacious private room waiting for Jenna Gregor, NP, ICEA, as the framed certificates on the wall informed.

Coffee-colored walls, a small waterfall with rocks bubbling in the corner—similar to something Ben might design if a space or client called for it—potted plants, scrolled iron pieces on the wall, and oversized canvases of fully pregnant women and newborn faces made for a relaxing atmosphere.

Or at least an attempt at one, as Ben couldn’t claim relaxation was at the forefront of his mind. Call him stereotypical, but pregnant women made him nervous.

And apparently, seeing how he was sitting here instead of out at the job like he should’ve been, a pushover.

Heidi’s ideas about coming to the clinic had first shown up in subtle hints—a brochure on the counter, a screen left up on the computer—before she started mentioning it in passing. “It’d be so nice to get some support, to really
talk
before this baby is born. With my history, it'd just be good to have information, to feel educated going forward.” Ben had agreed. When he realized she meant for him to accompany her on the visits—“At least the first one!"—was when his support had waned.

But she’d suggested a little more, the subtle hints became outright pleas, and one too many times she used those hazel eyes and big dimples while sighing and resting her hands on the growing belly, and he'd caved.

Part of it, he knew, was duty. Taking care of family, doing what needed to be done. The rest, he was okay to admit, was love.

He wanted her to have everything she needed this time around, and if this nurse or shrink, or whatever she was, is what Heidi needed, well, it’s what she needed.

It’s probably what Joseph needs too, if he’d get his butt back here.

Irritated at the thought and not daring mention Joseph, Ben stood and plucked a pamphlet from a full holder on the wall. While Heidi thumbed through a magazine, he skimmed the information that reminded him this place was supposed to help an expectant mother and father before and after birth. A childbirth educator, the foldout said, was for any parent-to-be, but could particularly be of help to women (and couples) who’ve had previous trauma, baby loss, or depression in the conception process.

Unfortunately, he thought with a sting of heartache, most of those could apply to Heidi.

Though he wasn’t sure about telling a stranger all of life’s problems and expecting a life-changing epiphany, or cure for past hurts, he had high hopes this might actually be good for her.

He hoped this childbirth education woman wasn’t a fluke and that she’d actually help. He didn’t know what to say to Heidi anymore . . . about anything. The fears about Joseph, the baby, the past, Ben thought those conversations were much more suited for a professional.

Come to think of it, that alone made him actually glad he was here. Glad they were here.

Just as he was about to do something he never did—admit to Heidi she was right on this one—the door opened and in walked the woman he assumed they were there to see.

A sly smile spread across Ben’s lips.
Well, well, isn’t this a turn of events?

Jenna Gregor, NP, ICEA was none other than the Jenna that had crossed his mind more than a few times over the weekend.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to going back to finish up the Stonehaven’s place this afternoon in the hopes he'd see Dawson’s mother again. Preferably in the nice little athletic shorts she had on the first time he’d seen her.

No luck with the shorts, but here indeed, was the woman.

Jenna entered the room calmly and gracefully, a sort of quiet comfort. She definitely wasn’t clothed in what he’d expected would be a doctor’s uniform——the almost always unflattering scrubs.

Instead, she wore fitted black pants with a pale yellow sweater that fit her curves just right. Her lightweight white jacket with J. Gregor, NP stitched over the left breast pocket was the only indicator she was here as the professional and not the patient.

Smart,
Ben thought.
Make the people here feel as comfortable as possible. When you’re analyzing someone, listening to their secrets, fears, regrets, desires, you don't want the stiff uniform.

But you didn’t want to look like a goddess either.

Okay, so maybe she was going for the professional, approachable look and it was just Ben conjuring up the goddess image. But what man with blood running through his veins would blame him? The woman was a vision.

The pants fit the curve of her hips with what he could only come up with as delicious, and that yellow shade of her top made her dark hair and fair skin glow. The pieces of hair falling in a whisper over her brows showcased stunning blue eyes, and the delicate face promised a smooth, silky touch.

Yes, Heidi had definitely been right on this one. He was very glad he’d come today. Maybe he’d be extra supportive and attend just one or two more appointments.

When Jenna walked into a room with waiting patients, she was always ready. At the door she dropped thoughts of the kids’ schedules, a day’s worth of errands that needed doing, or anything on her own agenda. Her main goal was to help the woman or couple inside that room in whatever capacity needed.

Today, she wasn’t prepared. She’d looked up and the gallon of hazelnut coffee she’d just gulped nearly came back up.

There stood Ben, or Mr. Ben as she had heard him referred to countless times after drilling Dawson once again on leaving their yard and talking to strangers, while Dawson insisted, once again, that Mr. Ben was not a stranger, and he was the best kick class teacher and flower man in the whole wide world.

To some degree, Jenna agreed with the three-year-old.

While she didn’t know if Ben was a great teacher, or landscaper for that matter, she could attest to him being the best—the best-looking man she’d laid her eyes on in a long time. Well, ever really.

Sure she’d been distracted at their brief meeting Sunday, but not distracted enough that she didn’t notice . . . him.

With eyes like those, who wouldn’t?

And currently, the kelly green were looking directly at her, waiting for her to make her
move.

“Good morning.” She smiled at Ben and the young woman sitting in one of the twin deep leather chairs. “I'm Jenna.” She extended a hand to Ben first as he stood near the door. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Pleasure,” the deep voice she remembered resounded as he wrapped her hand in a warm grasp. “I'm Ben, and I believe we met yesterday.”

“Ah, yes.” Jenna cleared her throat as she fought off a nervous smile. “You’re my son’s karate teacher.”

“That’s right,” Ben smiled back with a grin holding a bit of mischief and not a hint of any nerves. She hoped he didn't do that often. It made her uncomfortable. “Nice to see you again.”

“You as well.”

“This is Heidi,” he gestured over to the woman.

“Hello, Ms. Gregor. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Heidi said kindly. “I’ve heard so much about you—all good of course.”