Instant Daddy

She gave him a serious frown. “You don’t sound as if you know them very well.”

The drugstore bag crackled in his long fingers, his silence answering her.

She pulled to a stop at the intersection and returned waves from people walking home from graduation, umbrellas raised against the rain. She turned to Dr. Sheridan. “Why don’t you know your parents?”

He gave her a sideways glance. “They’re archeologists. They spend most of their time on digs in remote parts of the world.”

“Interesting.” And a relief. It didn’t sound like he’d get much help or support from them, did it? She accelerated.

He stretched his long legs out in front of him until he ran out of room.

She jerked her gaze back to the road in front of them.

“Any chance Jake’s car has a volume control?” he asked. “Those nonsensical rhymes just began a painful third rotation.”

Were the good doctor’s nerves a tad on the frazzled side, too? And unused to children’s toys? “I don’t want him to hear the tension in our voices.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“You would have if you knew anything about kids.”

His lips quirked. “No doubt.”

She drew in a momentary breath of victory. But it was too soon to gloat. She still didn’t know much about his situation or who he depended on for support. “Did you travel with your parents when you were young?”

“No.”

Her little fishing expedition would take forever if all she got from him were one-syllable answers. Drawing herself a little taller, she took a left and fired off another question. “Who did you stay with?”

“I lived in boarding schools,” he said matter-of-factly.

She looked at him sharply. Boarding schools? The poor man. “You grew up in boarding schools?” She couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice.

He stared out the windshield. “The best boarding schools in the country.”

As if that made it easier for him to be away from his family? “Did your parents sometimes take you with them?”

He glanced her way. “Why the third degree?”

She recognized avoidance when she heard it. “Did they?”

He dragged in a breath and let it out. “There’s not much for a kid to do in the middle of the Sahara desert for months on end. And they wanted me educated by the best schools available to better prepare me to contribute to mankind.”

His parents sacrificed him to science? How could they do that? “You must have been lonely growing up with strangers.”

He shrugged as if loneliness was no big deal. “My studies were challenging. There was plenty to do. Swimming, tennis, golf, horses, you name it. I didn’t have time to be lonely.”

He expected her to believe that? “Did you go home often?”

He frowned at her.

“Did you?” She sat straighter. “Go home often?”

“When holidays didn’t conflict with digs.” His tone was flat, uninterested.

Jessie swallowed, unable to comprehend the lonely, disconnected childhood he must have lived. “What about when you were very little? Before boarding school?”

“I had nannies.”

Jessie shook her head. How did a child function and grow without his parents and relatives to guide him? How did he learn to love himself or others if he didn’t have people who loved him show him how? How would he love Jake? “I have a hard time imagining growing up like that. I’m related to half of Noah’s Crossing.”

“Lucky you.”

She glanced at his serious face and somehow wanted to make him feel better. “I’m sure you’ve made your parents proud.”

“Yes,” he said quietly.

Too quietly. He’d had such a lonely, awful childhood, Jessie’s heart ached for him. But was his childhood the reason he wanted his son? Even if he had no time for him?

He didn’t have a wife. No girlfriend either if he’d been honest about not having time for relationships. But he must have somebody besides his absent parents. Somebody he was counting on for help. “You said you don’t have time for relationships, but you must have somebody.”

He raised a well-shaped eyebrow. “Why are you so interested?”

“Because of Jake, of course.”

“You need somebody to vouch that I won’t be a bad influence on the boy? Is that it?”

“Do you have anybody who would do that?”

Jaw clenching, he settled back in his seat and focused out the windshield again. “Scott and Karen Kenyon.”

“Friends?”

“He was my college professor and has been my friend and mentor ever since. Is that a long enough relationship for you?” He sounded a tad irritated.

Maybe she was finally getting somewhere. “Have you called to tell them about Jake?”

“Not yet.”

“Do they have children?”

“They’d make great parents, but kids aren’t in the cards for them,” he said sadly.

She couldn’t help empathizing with them. But a jolt of fear chased away her empathy. Did he want his friends to raise Jake? “They can’t have children?”

“They have enough on their plates without kids to worry about.”

This wasn’t adding up. If his friends didn’t have time for children, he couldn’t count on them to help him with Jake, could he? “I don’t understand.”