Mission Creek Mother-To-Be

Melanie took a long breath, then expelled it. “That makes sense,” she admitted. “I just wish I believed you were even a tiny bit open-minded about my plan.”

He smiled. “I wish you were a little more open-minded about it, too.”

She looked at him for a moment, her blue eyes as light as the summer sky, but the expression in them dark. Dangerous. “This is not going to change my mind, you know.”

“Maybe it will, maybe it won’t.” He had to admire her determination. Truth was, he had nothing against her personally. He merely knew what it was like to be an unwanted child. Fifteen years in the Drumoldry Orphanage had given him all the evidence he’d ever needed.

His birth mother had kept him for the first three years of his life. All he remembered of her was the smell of alcohol, a lot of yelling, and cockroaches crawling around the floors of the succession of cheap motels they slept in.

Oh, and the boyfriends. His mother had had a lot of them. He’d seen more than any kid should have to see.

It wasn’t just his own experience that made him so protective of childrens’ rights, it was the experiences of the children he’d known in Drumoldry: Mary Cassidy, whose father was unknown and whose mother lost a battle with cancer when Mary was the undesirable-to-adoptive-parents age of eleven; Bobby Miller Nordell who had come in at four years of age, then was returned at six by a couple who had managed to have their own children and didn’t want him any longer; Alex Jergen, who’d been left in the orphanage parking lot at age three and who stayed with them until he gave in to his depression at fifteen.

Jared knew too many stories just like theirs.

“It’s not personal,” Jared repeated. “It’s about the child. Please work with me on this so we can make sure we do what’s best for him or her. And what’s best for you. A couple of weeks isn’t a long time to wait when you’re talking about creating a new life.”

She studied him for a moment. He didn’t know what she saw there, but her expression softened suddenly. “Okay. We’ll do it your way. When can I start at the day-care center?”

“How about tomorrow morning? I’ll call and arrange it with them, let them know you’re coming. Say, nine o’clock?”

She nodded. “I’ll be there at nine sharp.”

She was late.

She hadn’t even opened her eyes until ten that morning. It was jet lag, of course. Melanie had never been a late sleeper and she certainly wasn’t lazy, but she knew it would be hard to convince Dr. Jared Cross of that.

How many points was this going to count against her?

She scurried around the bedroom of her rented apartment in The Aldon Towers, throwing on the most conservative, June Cleaverish clothes she could find. She gave her long dark hair the quickest once-over with a brush and pulled it back into a long pony-tail. Forget makeup; the kids wouldn’t care. Besides, the less conspicuous she was, the better. Remarkably, no one in this little town had taken much notice of her so far. She only hoped that would continue to be the case.

She pounded out to the street where her car was parked, wondering if there was even a chance that Dr. Cross wouldn’t discover she was late on her first day there.

Nah. He was probably there right now, she thought as she forced herself to keep to the twenty-five-mile-an-hour speed limit on Mission Creek Drive while the clock on the dashboard seemed to move at double speed. Ten-ten, ten-fourteen, ten-nineteen.

With luck she found a parking space in the street and hurried up the sidewalk, passing a magazine kiosk. The tabloid headline seemed to jump out and grab her by the throat: A Wild Heiress! And there was that stupid photo again—the one that managed to make it look as if she and Robert were in a very compromising position when, in fact, he had knocked into the edge of her chaise longue and fallen, or pretended to fall, right on top of her. In reality, the children had screamed with laughter at their father’s “clumsiness.”

In the photo, though, it looked as if the children were screaming with horror at what they’d found their father doing with Melanie.

Truth was, Melanie and Roberto had never done more than kiss, but there was no convincing the world of that. People didn’t want to believe that nothing salacious had actually occurred.

It just wasn’t as interesting.

Melanie ducked her head as she passed the vendor and kept a low profile as she dashed through the hospital door. Ten twenty-three.

By the time she’d asked at the information desk and followed the directions to the day-care center, it was ten twenty-eight and Melanie was out of breath from running through the maze of corridors.

The first person she saw was Dr. Jared Cross.

In fact, she ran smack into him as she entered the center.

“Oh, sorry!”

He helped her regain her footing, placing his hands on her shoulders until she’d righted herself. “Miss Tourbier,” he said in a voice better suited to an elementary school principal. “What a surprise.”

She couldn’t fault him for being angry, even if she didn’t like his attitude. “I’m so sorry I’m late. This really isn’t like me, honestly. My internal clock is all out of whack at the moment. Jet lag. I couldn’t get to sleep until three this morning and then I guess I slept through my alarm.” She tossed her hands up and tried to catch her breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You have trouble when you don’t get enough sleep?” he asked.

Oh, give it a rest, she wanted to say. “No more than anyone else. I swear I’m never late for things,” she said, damning her luck. “This is very unusual for me.”

Before he could give her the kind of superior response she could see was coming, they were interrupted by a buxom woman in her midsixties, with pale hair piled atop her head.

“Dr. Cross, is this the young woman you told me about?”

“Yes, Emily, this is Melanie Tourbier. Melanie, this is Ms. Woods, the day-care director.”

“Call me Em,” she said, extending her hand and smiling warmly. “We don’t stand much on formality here.”

“Em, I’m so glad to meet you.” Melanie tried to ignore the chill from the icy Jared Cross next to her. “As I was explaining to Dr. Cross, I’ve just flown in from London—”

“And are your arms tired?” Em finished with a laugh. “I apologize. That kind of joke goes over big around here. You might as well get used to it. As for your being late, I’m aware that you’ve come from overseas and am frankly impressed that you were able to get yourself together as early as you did. Jet lag can be ferocious.”

Melanie’s shoulders sagged in relief. “I won’t be late again,” she promised sincerely.

“Please don’t fret about it.” Em lowered her voice for a moment before she added, “I have to say, you’re even more beautiful in person than you are in your pictures.”

Melanie thought of the pictures the woman might be referring to and blushed.

Em continued, “I saw photos in House and Home from a party you gave for the king of Jordan.”

“Oh,” Melanie breathed. “Yes, I remember those.”

“It looked so lovely. I hope our humble hospital doesn’t seem too dull to you.”

Jared cleared his throat.

Melanie ignored him. “So far, it’s been a real treat to be here. Almost everyone has been so kind and gracious.”

“Almost everyone here is like that,” Jared interjected. “Isn’t that right, Em?”

“Yes, indeed. And, Melanie, we’re so glad to have you here. It was awfully good of Dr. Cross to suggest it.”

Melanie turned guilelessly to the doctor. “Yes, wasn’t it?”

His mouth cocked into the smallest smile, and Melanie could have sworn she saw a moment of laughter in his eyes. “I can the see two of you are going to do just fine together. So if you’ll excuse me, I have appointments.” He leveled a sea-green gaze on Melanie. “I’ll come back and check on you later.”

Something shivered through her and made her heart pump faster when he looked at her. “That won’t be necessary.”