Alias Mommy

She made herself shrug again, praying she looked nonchalant. “Well, Dr. Snyder,” she improvised, “not that it’s any of your business, but just guess why a man would dump his wife because she’s pregnant.” He looked suddenly discomfited, and she pressed her advantage without waiting for him to reply. “Because there’s some doubt whether this baby was his.” Polly smiled snidely, though she was cringing inside. As though she, of all people, could have been unfaithful—even after all her husband had put her through.

And the thought of Reeve thinking she could do such a thing sent a stab of misery shooting through her.

But her comments had had the effect she’d desired—sort of. Something inside twisted and began to shrivel as Reeve looked at her with distaste. “You were right in the first place, Ms. Black,” he said. “It was none of my business.”

Ernie shifted his weight from one leg to the other, inserting a thumb into the waistband of his jeans and hiking them up. “Glad I could be of help,” he said. “But I’d best be leaving. Ms. Black, you be careful driving when they let you out of here. City council may not be letting out next time.”

“I’ll be careful,” Polly said fervently, wondering what he meant by “city council.” But he had already turned away.

So had Reeve. The sight of him leaving made her want to cry again. She watched the stiffness in his broad shoulders beneath his white doctor’s coat as he followed Ernie toward the door.

Polly closed her eyes, wishing she could call him back, could tell the truth—or enough of it so he wouldn’t despise her.

But this was better. He would keep his distance. Just because he’d been her hero didn’t mean she could make him her friend.

And certainly didn’t mean she could harbor thoughts of something even closer between them. It was too soon after Carl’s death to think of any man that way. And the way Carl had been…Polly doubted she would ever dare trust a man again.

She let herself collapse back onto the raised bed, but before Reeve left, another man shouldered by him into the room. “Ms. Black?” he asked. His small glasses had the thick black frames that Polly believed had been popular in the 1960s. The man looked as though he might have been a throwback to the era of hippies. Although his hair was thin and wispy, it nearly reached to his shoulders, and he wore a suit that appeared to be polyester.

“Yes, I’m Polly Black,” she replied warily. She needed a nap, and she had an idea this visit would not be as pleasant as the one from Ernie.

Reeve followed the man back into the room. Polly felt her pulse quicken in pleasure.

Cut it out, she told herself. Whatever his reason for returning, it wasn’t because he was glad to be with her.

Again, Reeve made the introductions. “Ms. Black, this is Clifford, from the medical center’s administration department.” She wasn’t sure whether Clifford was his first or last name.

“Exactly.” Clifford’s voice was high and nasal, and he sniffled as he talked. “We need some information. I’ve forms for you to fill out, and we need to talk about your insurance.”

Polly drew in her breath. She had been too relieved that she and Laurel were all right to consider the practicalities, but of course their hospital stay would be expensive. She had even had surgery; she was sure cesarean sections were not cheap.

She had money—some. But her flight had been spontaneous, and she hadn’t had time to grab much cash. She’d already charged gas on her credit card. She doubted the card’s limit was high, and eventually someone would realize it was a fake.

And if she used it again here, someone might be able to track her down.

What could she do? She had no one to ask for a loan. Not even Lorelei; a struggling actress in Hollywood would not be able to scrounge up the money this hospital stay was likely to require. Even if Polly dared to call her. She’d planned to get there first, then figure out some way to meet up with her friend short of telephoning her.

She wouldn’t be surprised if Lorelei had already been contacted. Her phone might even be tapped.

But Polly had no place else to go. And now she didn’t know if she had a drivable car. She hadn’t enough money for another clunker.

“Ms. Black?” Clifford’s nasal voice cut into her thoughts.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid a hospital visit wasn’t in my plans. I was going to a friend’s, and I was planning to have natural birth with a midwife. I…I have no money or insurance.”

“I see.” Clifford’s pale eyes squinted behind his glasses, and he did not look at all happy.

He glanced at Reeve, who stood impassively near the doorway, watching the scene. Polly cringed inside. Now, on top of everything else, he would think of her as a deadbeat.

“It’s not that we’re not compassionate here at Selborn Community Medical Center,” said Clifford. “But these things must be dealt with promptly, and—”

“I don’t think Ms. Black’s precarious state of health allows for a discussion of finances now, Clifford,” Reeve interrupted.

Polly glanced at him in relieved surprise. Moments ago, he had acted as though he found her as despicable as a cockroach on a hospital lunch tray. Now he seemed to be protecting her.

“Thanks,” she said. “You’re probably right. I feel awfully tired now. But Mr. Clifford—” she lifted her chin toward the scowling little man “—I don’t welsh on debts.”

An idea suddenly struck her. Here she was, in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. No one here knew she wasn’t Polly Black, and any people her family had out searching for her would believe she was still pregnant; Laurel actually hadn’t been due for a month.

Selborn Peak, Colorado, just might be the haven Polly—and Laurel—needed.

“I don’t have to be where I was going for some time,” she continued, excitement making her heart flutter. “Once I’m feeling better, if I could find a job here at your hospital, one where I would still be able to take care of Laurel, I could hang around till my bill is paid.”

The corners of Clifford’s pinched mouth curved up as though he attempted a return smile. “That might work. The center has a good child care facility for the doctors and staff, though your baby’s much too young—their minimum age’s six months, I think. I’ll keep my ears open to see what kind of job might be available. Though in your condition, and with a new baby…”

“I’ve always been healthy,” Polly said eagerly. “I’m sure I’ll bounce back just fine.” A child care facility, right where she worked! If she stayed here long enough to take advantage of it, she could drop in all the time, be near her baby, even while on the job.

But what would she do in the meantime?

A sudden wave of helplessness washed over her. She knew no one here. Whom could she ask for advice?

And hadn’t she determined she would never again depend on anyone else’s assistance?

She closed her eyes for just a moment, then opened them again as she fought to regain her resolve.

She would find a way.

“Thank you, Mr. Clifford,” she said, meaning it. Thanks to the sour little man, everything would work out fine. She was certain of it.

She looked toward the door, to find Reeve Snyder still just inside. He was staring at her. Once again, she could not read the cool expression on his face—but although it might be wishful thinking on her part, he did not look as though the idea of her staying for a while upset him.

And that somehow made her feel much better.

“Here you are!” A throaty feminine voice projected from the doorway, and in marched a woman Polly hadn’t seen before. She was nearly as tall as Reeve, with a flowing broomstick skirt and peasant blouse that dipped nearly to her ample cleavage. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” She took Reeve’s chin in one hand and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, Alicia,” he said. Stepping back, he looked a little embarrassed as he glanced toward Polly. Or maybe that was just her imagination. In any event, Polly felt strangely disappointed, as though a present she had dreamed about for years had suddenly been snatched out of her hands.

“Who’s this?” Alicia asked, her long strides swishing her skirt as she approached the bed. Her jaw was strong and her nose just a little too long, but combined with her broad cheekbones and large, probing brown eyes, made a striking effect. Her wavy hair, held back by a pair of narrow reading glasses, was deep russet. The shade didn’t look natural, but then, neither was Polly’s. “Is this our little accident victim?” the woman pressed.

Polly tensed. How did this woman know about her?

As though reading her mind, Alicia said, “I know everything that goes on around here, but I’m always eager to learn more.”

“Alicia’s a reporter,” Clifford said.

That explained it. It also made Polly’s blood begin to freeze in her veins.

“That’s right. I’m with the Selborn Peak Standard.” Alicia lifted one of the papers from Polly’s bed and pointed to an article on the first page. “I do features, news, anything. So tell me about your accident.” With a flourish, she pulled a small tape recorder from a pocket in her skirt.