Love Inspired May 2015 #1 (19 page)

Once the baby belched, she returned her to the exam table. “I'll do a quick check and then she can have a nap in her car seat.”

Violet glanced at Jake. He was watching every move she made, his eyes taking it all in like a first-time parent overwhelmed by a new life depending on him, afraid he'd do something wrong. She couldn't help but smile as she examined the baby's ears. “You never told me her name.”

* * *

Jake's brain nearly buzzed. How could he tell this doctor that he had no idea what the child's name was? A child in
his
care.

He and Dr. Crenshaw were already adversarial. And now he was going to have to admit he had no contact information for the mother. No baby name. No father's name. No mother's address. Nothing but a copy of hospital records from Atlanta labeled
Baby Girl West
. He assumed Remy had filled out a birth certificate application, so surely the girl had a legal name.

What about those papers she mentioned?

One last, frantic flip through the documents in the bag revealed a folded copy of the birth certificate paperwork crammed between two folders along with the medical consent to treat form. When he read the name on the form, Jake sucked in a breath.

Remy had named the girl after his mother.

“Abigail,” he choked out. “Her name's Abigail.”

As the doctor continued the exam, Jake wondered at Remy's intentions for the girl. Had she planned all along for Jake to raise Abigail? Or had the decision been sudden, born out of desperation?

“Ears look good.” Violet warmed the stethoscope and listened to the baby's chest and back. “Heartbeat and lungs are perfect.”

With her short, wavy black hair, cut so that it flipped some at the ends, Violet looked too young to be a doctor. But despite the hair, her big, serious hazel eyes and white lab coat made her a convincing professional.

She glanced at the baby's belly and poked around. “Umbilical cord has already fallen off. Healed nicely. She seems to be in good health.”

Relief swept through him. At least Remy had been taking good care of her.

“What's her birth date?”

That
info he did have. “She was born on the Fourth of July.”

Dr. Crenshaw pulled a sheet of paper out of a file folder and charted the weight on a graph. “Two weeks old. She's at the fiftieth percentile. Weight, length and head circumference look good. And I also need her last name.” She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Instead, frustration seemed to spark at his inability to focus and communicate basic facts.

The baby looked groggy, her belly full, content. His earlier panic inched down a notch. “Abigail West.” He glanced again at the form, his chest tightening. Remy had given the girl his dad's middle name—which was also Jake's middle name. “Abigail Lee, L-e-e, West.”

“Thank you,” the pediatrician mumbled, her tone adding an unspoken
finally
as she filled in the blanks on some sort of form.

She probably questioned his mental faculties. He was beginning to wonder himself. “Here's that medical release form from her mother. Do you have some kind of booklet on basic infant care? I wasn't sure about whether to boil the water or use milk for the formula. Or how to sterilize the bottles—or if I even need to. That kind of thing.”

“Don't give her cow's milk yet. Here.” She wrapped the baby up like a burrito and leaned close to set her in his arms. As she did, the doc's short, flippy black hair caught on his beard and tickled his chin.

“I'll go make Abigail's file,” she said. “You should probably change her diaper so she'll take a nice long nap for you.”

Diapers. There would be lots of messy diapers in his near future. The thought nearly made him wretch.

“You have changed her diaper, haven't you?”

“No.”

“Ever changed
any
diaper?”

“No.” His incompetence had been revealed. Could she report someone for being an inept babysitter?

She simply sighed. “Sounds like you need a crash course.”

“I do. Would you be willing to come home with me to help get Abigail settled? I'll pay you whatever you'd bill for, what? Four appointments in an hour? Six?”

“Do you have a friend you could ask?” Her hazel eyes were serious, concerned, as if she feared he didn't have any friends. Which only showed she must think the worst of him. Still, for some reason, he found the concern endearing.

Caution, Jake. No matter how cute she looks with her feathery hair and big serious eyes, this conniving woman took advantage of Aunt Edith and Uncle Paul.
“No, I don't have anyone else to ask. The older ladies in my church may not know the current child-rearing recommendations. I don't know the young moms well enough to ask a favor. And the women I've dated...well, none of them would be good with kids.”

She gave a derisive snort. “Not dating the maternal type, huh?”

No, his dates were more into skydiving or mountain climbing than children. But he wasn't going to stoop to answer her snooty question. She could think badly of him all she wanted. He didn't value her opinion unless it had to do with Abigail. “I'll pay you. Just name your price.”

“My price? Quit bad-mouthing me to people in town.”

Stunned by her bluntness, he huffed. “I've only spoken the truth.”

“There's no way you know every detail of the contract negotiations. Get the facts straight before you start smearing someone's reputation.”

Oh, he knew all about the contract negotiations between her and Paul and Edith—and how she'd found fault with the way the business had been run, had brought in her expensive Atlanta lawyer to do her bidding. Jake even knew the final sale price—which he thought entirely too low for something his aunt and uncle had built for decades, since before Jake's parents died.

Looking around the room at the same child-friendly posters and colorful furniture his aunt and uncle had lovingly put in place made him sad. Jake wouldn't back down, wouldn't let the doctor from the huge city clinic come in acting as if his family were bumpkins, and taking advantage of them, without repercussions.

Despite his opinion of her, though, he needed her help. For the baby's sake. “Will you please help me with Abigail?” The words grated in his throat, nearly choking him.

She stared into his eyes until the moment became uncomfortable. Briefly, he thought he saw pain, but then the pediatrician snatched a diaper out of the bag. “Helping you set up for a baby is not something I can bill as a medical service.”

“I'll pay you directly, like a babysitting subcontractor.”

“I'll give you an hour.”

The tension in his shoulders relaxed as he laid Abigail on the exam table. “Thank you.”

Violet made quick work of the diaper, so smoothly the little gal barely stirred from her sleep. “I'll teach you to do this on her next diaper change.”

Once she was done, she handed the baby back to him. He gently buckled her into her car seat, even managing not to wake her. Maybe he'd get the hang of this temporary fatherhood job after all.

As he lifted the carrier, Abigail suddenly cried out as if in some sort of pain.

“Did your cousin happen to mention the baby being colicky?” the doc asked over the screeching cries.

He swung the car seat back and forth, trying to soothe her. “No.”

“This might be a long few nights for you, Jake.”

Few nights? If only...

“That diaper bag is all I have,” he said. “I guess I need to stop and buy some supplies on the way home.”

“I don't mind picking up the basics for you before I come over.”

“But—”

“You can pay me back later.”

Before he could refuse, she said, “I heard you moved into your aunt and uncle's house. I'll be there shortly.” She was no-nonsense, used to being obeyed. She breezed out of the room, presumably to show him out.

When they reached the front door, she unlocked it and held it open.

“I appreciate it.” With a nod, he headed out, his tiny second cousin or cousin-once-removed or whatever she was to him blasting his ears.

“Come on now, Abigail,” he cooed in his best soothing voice, a tone he didn't even know he could make.

He lifted her carrier to the truck's backseat. Once again, he struggled to buckle the car seat in place.

“How about I show you how to do that?” Violet said from behind him.

When he agreed, she made her way between him and the truck, spun the car seat around backward and scooted it to the middle seat belt. “Infants this age must be rear-facing. And there's supposed to be a base that stays in your vehicle that the seat latches into. Until you buy a new one, which I recommend, the strap goes through here.” She pointed to a slot on the back. With the seat facing the correct direction, the seat belt easily slipped through and locked Abigail in place.

“Now that makes perfect sense,” he said with a laugh. “Should have thought of it myself.”

Violet turned and faced him, looking satisfied. She was so close the evening sun reflected off flecks of gold in her eyes.

He stepped back, allowing her to slip past him. She did so quickly and darted toward the office building, as if anxious to get away.

He felt almost guilty for the things he'd thought and said about her. Almost. “Thank you, Dr. Crenshaw. I know you didn't have to do all this, to go the extra mile.”

She stiffened as if surprised and glanced at him over her shoulder. “My purpose in life is to help children, Mr. West.”

Of course she wasn't acting out of kindness toward him. But he could live with that.

With a nod, she stepped inside and shut the door.

Hoping the sound of the engine might help lull Abigail to sleep, Jake hopped in and started the truck. By the time he'd driven halfway home, she had quieted.

Thank You, Lord.

Now, if You'd just help me find a way not to alienate the doc before Remy gets back, I'd be doubly grateful.

Copyright © 2015 by Melissa L. Tippens

ISBN-13: 9781460381458

The Rancher Takes a Bride

Copyright © 2015 by Brenda Minton

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The Doctor's New Family

Doctor Spring Darling has everything she needs. A wonderful family and a busy job helping the children of Cedar Springs, North Carolina. She's given up on adding love to that mix. Until the moment David Camden and his adorable son appear in her exam room. Spring assumes David is another down-on-his-luck single parent at the free clinic—but looks can be deceiving. Because David has a job—he's the architect proposing a new development in the middle of Spring's land! When the truth is revealed, can Spring find a way to keep both her home and the blessing of new love?

David Camden had played her for a fool.

“I have nothing to say to you,” she told him.

“Let me explain,” David said.

“Explain? You lied to me.”

“I did no such thing,” David said.

“First, you let me believe you were homeless and now—” she gestured toward his large portfolio “—you gave a lie of omission.”

“Did I?” he asked.

He'd arrived at the community care clinic with Jeremy in his arms. She'd just assumed…

Embarrassed, Spring glanced at the floor. “I've been…” she started, then looked up to meet his gaze. She'd made a major error in judgment, maybe in an attempt to quell the almost immediate attraction she'd had toward him. An attraction that was overwhelming.

“I made some assumptions,” she told him. “I'm sorry, David.”

He sighed, the anger seeming to drain from him.“I didn't mean to lose my temper with you,” he said. He nodded toward the room they'd recently vacated. “I wasn't prepared for that type of reception.”

“You should have. You're here to steal my land.”