Married in Haste

This time Anita did laugh as they departed Ben’s office. “Maybe you ought to combine forces with your friend who has the five boys. You could help with her boys, and she could advise you on dealing with emotional girls.”

Ben mulled over Anita’s suggestion as he greeted his next patient and her triplet daughters. If they’d been more than two months old, he might have asked her for advice. But the poor beleaguered new mother needed all the help she could get. Before she left, though, she said something profound that stuck with Ben. “Somebody missed the boat, Dr. Galloway. Every college should offer classes in parenting. At some point in life, most people become one. Yet the only people who get training are those going into early childhood education. Or maybe pediatrics,” she said, tossing him a tired sigh. “I think teacher training is best. Teachers have to be in control of kids six or more hours a day. No offense, but pediatricians only see kids ten minutes at a time.”

He considered her words for the rest of the day. And he recalled the ease with which Abby Drummond had handled Erin’s class. She’d had twenty-two or so kids in that class. The few times Ben had dropped by at the end of the day, Abby appeared calm and unruffled. Who better to teach him the skills he needed to raise his sister’s girls than a woman he already knew and admired?

“Anita!” He met up with her and traded charts. “Was Pat able to rearrange my afternoon schedule?”

“Yes, she managed to clear your afternoon. Actually, she said if you used the time to relax and quit biting off everyone’s head, she’d blank out one afternoon a week.”

“Ouch. Have I gotten that bad?”

“In a word—yes. But the staff can suffer through for a while. We recognize the strain you’ve been under these last weeks, Ben.”

“I’ll have to make a conscious effort to watch myself. I meant what I said during the initial interviews before Steve and I opened the clinic. People spend more hours a day at their workplace than at home. The environment should be pleasant. It shouldn’t contribute to a person’s stress.”

“Yeah, but all work and no play makes guys like Ben and Steve cranky. I know it’s not your fault you both had to cancel your vacations. The staff think you should reschedule those trips.”

“Wouldn’t it be loverly?” Ben quipped. “In a way, Steve ended up being more tied down than me. Not only was his mom hurt, meaning he has to care for her and his wheelchair-bound grandfather, but her house suffered major quake damage.”

Ben had missed seeing the clinic receptionist walk up behind him. “Excuse the interruption, Doctor.” Pat waved a pink message slip under his nose. “Your bank is on line one. What’s this they’re saying about a change of address on your checks? Did you move and not tell us?”

“Jeez, did I forget? I let the lease on my apartment go. Even though Marlo’s house is small and I had to store some of my stuff, I couldn’t bring myself to uproot Erin and Mollie. What really tipped the scales was that my complex didn’t allow pets. Not that it wouldn’t suit me to give away that damned cat, but…” Ben heaved a sigh. “I couldn’t, of course. She sleeps on their bed, and she’s one of the few constants left in their lives.”

Checking the name on the chart, Ben whisked the note from Pat’s fingers. “Anita, tell Mrs. Jensen I’ll be in to see Daniel in a minute. This call shouldn’t take long. My banker’s a former college buddy. He probably assumes the bottom fell out of the medical profession. You watch, he’ll love rubbing in how my new address is quite a comedown from the area I’m leaving.”

Pat tugged the message out of Ben’s lax grip. “Go see Danny Jensen. I’ll tell this bank buzzard to mind his own beeswax. In our books you’re a good man, Dr. Galloway. A good man with a heart of pure gold.”

Was he? Ben pondered Pat’s statement as he paused outside the Jensen room to collect his thoughts. He certainly hoped so. He’d hate to think he’d turned into an unfeeling bastard like his father.

BEN MANAGED to arrive at Sky Heights Elementary ten minutes before classes let out. He’d already stopped at the office to inform them he’d be picking up Erin and Mollie, which meant their teachers would pull the girls out of the bus line. It should allow him a minute to swing by Abby’s classroom first. Considering what his staff had said about needing to make some time to play, Ben pictured meeting Abby later at a sports bar they both liked. Just to relax over a beer and talk like they used to.

He cupped his hands around his eyes and peered into her room. Whoa! He didn’t recognize the dark-haired woman at the desk. She looked fresh out of college. Stepping back, Ben rechecked the room number.

It was the right one. He peered through the glass again. Maybe Abby had acquired an aide. Or the other woman could be a parent, though Ben had his doubts. She didn’t look parental, somehow. But then, what in hell were parents supposed to look like?

The door opened fast, almost hitting his nose. Ben jumped back. Clear green eyes that were probably the result of colored contact lenses took his measure openly. “Well, hello,” exclaimed a breathy, high-pitched voice. “Tell me you’re lost, and that you don’t have a student in my class.”

Ben tugged at his tie, recognizing a come-on when he heard one. “Things have obviously changed since the last time I visited the school. I’m looking for Abigail Drummond. I thought this was her room.”

“Technically it is.” The young woman with the bouncy curls extended a slender hand. “I’m Stacy Thorpe. I’m filling in for Ms. Drummond, but I intend to get the job permanently. And you are?” she prompted, tipping her head coyly.

The bell rang announcing the end of school. Doors opened and kids poured into the hall to line up. A teacher leaving the room directly across from Ben eyed him. She crossed to where he stood. “Hi. Are you looking for Abby? You probably don’t recognize me. I’m Abby’s friend, Raina Miller. I watched her nephews and your nieces the day of the quake.”

He relaxed. “I should’ve contacted you before now, to thank you. A…friend of my dad’s picked the girls up that day. So…thanks for helping me and Abby. My schedule’s been crazy. I came to get Erin and Mollie today and thought I’d take the opportunity to talk to Abby.” A small frown creased Ben’s forehead, especially as the Thorpe woman crowded close, apparently keeping tabs on his and Raina Miller’s conversation.

“Abby requested a two-month leave. I assumed you knew. Aren’t you managing Sam’s medical case?”

“Sam? Oh, uh…wrong Dr. Galloway. My father’s the surgeon. So, you’re saying Abby’s at home caring for Sam?”

“I suppose Sam is home by now. Last time we talked she was only caring for the doubles. Er, that’s the twins.”

“I had no idea. The boy must be in worse shape than I thought. I’ll grab the girls and run by Abby’s. I should’ve done that sooner.”

“She’d like that. I get the feeling she’s floundering. Or thinks she is. Good seeing you, Ben. Tell Abby hello for me.”

“I will.” He turned away and bumped into Stacy Thorpe, who blocked his path.

Raina Miller had returned to her line of students. She turned and called across the hall. “Ben, I don’t know if you’re aware that Abby’s not at her town house. She’s moved in with the boys.”

Boy, did that scenario sound familiar to Ben. “Do you have an address? Or are you allowed to give it out?”

Raina grinned. “I think she’d say it’s okay to make an exception for you. I have to walk my class to the busses. You’re meeting the girls? How about if I stop at the office in ten minutes? I’ll look up the address on the register and jot it down for you.”

“Hey, thanks. I’ll owe you one. Shoot, I already owe you for watching Erin and Mollie. So, I’ll owe you two.”

As Ben excused himself and skirted the teacher who’d taken over for Abby, he had an odd feeling Stacy Thorpe had slipped across the hall to question Raina Miller about him. Ben resisted turning around. He left dating women half his age to his dad. Ben and Marlo had found his preference for trophy girlfriends embarrassing. While it was evident Kirk would never change, Ben made a point of dating women who were smart, articulate and most of all, mature.

His youngest niece, Mollie, saw him first. “Unca Ben! Unca Ben. Erin, Unca Ben’s here.” The girl ran up to him, her eyes aglow. “Erin didn’t think you’d really pick us up.”

“Well, here I am.” He knelt and gave each girl a hug.

Erin, always more reserved than her sister, pulled away to adjust her wire-rimmed glasses. “Is Mrs. Clark sick? Do we have to find a new sitter?” The child’s somber eyes reflected her concern.

“Mrs. Clark’s fine, honey. Everything’s fine. And didn’t I used to come and get you now and then?”

“Only when you wanted to see Abby, er—I mean, Ms. Drummond.”

Ben tweaked the lopsided bow he’d laboriously tied in Erin’s long dark hair that morning. “I think you can call her Abby. You never told me she was on leave. I thought we might run by and visit her. Would that be agreeable?”

“What’s agree…ble?” Mollie screwed up her face.

Ben swung the sturdy girl aloft and tickled her to make her laugh. “It means, squirt, that I’m asking if visiting Abby is okay with you and your sister.”

Giggling, Mollie bumped her forehead against his. “Sure, Unca Ben. I miss Abby. Maybe if we ask her nice, she’ll come back and be my teacher next year.”

“Erin, you’re awfully quiet.” Ben glanced down at his elder niece. She wore an all too serious expression.

“Nothing’s the same. Miss Abby’s not ever going to come back. Just like Mommy’s never coming back. I don’t like how you and Mollie laugh. That’s wrong! Nothing’s funny anymore. Laughing makes everything worse!”

“Hey, button eyes!” Ben set Mollie down quickly, and bent to look at Erin. He gathered her tense little body against his own. “Baby, sometimes people need to laugh to keep from crying.”

But his words didn’t penetrate Erin McBride’s unhappiness. Her face crumpled and tears tracked down her cheeks. Holding her as tight as he dared, Ben worried that she’d lost weight since he’d done her last checkup.

“Goodness. Erin, did you fall and hurt yourself?” Raina Miller rounded the corner and stopped in front of the trio.

Rising, Ben gave a warning shake of his head. And Raina assumed an I see expression. No doubt she did understand. Surely those who worked with quake survivors weren’t unused to mopping up tears.

Raina passed Ben a paper on which she’d written Abby’s address. “Normally I’d tell you to give Abby a hard time about leaving the rest of us to deal with the fallout. Except I suspect she has her hands full with her own fallout. So don’t say a word. Just give her a big hug from me. I’ll phone her over the weekend. I have a few bits of scuttlebutt she’ll want to hear.”