Книга - And Father Makes Three

And Father Makes Three
Kim Watters


“YOUR DAUGHTER NEEDS YOU.” She’s saved countless lives, yet there’s one person emergency room doctor Elizabeth Randall can’t rescue—her adopted daughter, Jordan. Perhaps meeting her biological father, Blake Crawford, will be the lifeline Jordan needs. The handsome, guarded firefighter takes risks every day.But facing the daughter he never knew—along with lovely Elizabeth—has him thinking about family. With fatherhood thrust suddenly upon him, there’s no way he can turn his back on his sick child. Will working together to give Jordan a second chance at life also lead them to a second chance at love?







“Your daughter needs you.”

She’s saved countless lives, yet there’s one person emergency room doctor Elizabeth Randall can’t rescue—her adopted daughter, Jordan. Perhaps meeting her biological father, Blake Crawford, will be the lifeline Jordan needs. The handsome, guarded firefighter takes risks every day. But facing the daughter he never knew—along with lovely Elizabeth—has him thinking about family. With fatherhood thrust suddenly upon him, there’s no way he can turn his back on his sick child. Will working together to give Jordan a second chance at life also lead them to a chance at love?


“You can’t save Jordan?”

Anger and despair warred in his blue eyes and held her in her seat. And behind that she sensed a parent in need of something. She’d seen it too many times in the E.R.

She leaned forward and clasped her hands over his. “I can’t, but you can. Maybe. If you’re a match.”

What if he contested the adoption? What if he sued for custody? Yanking her hands away from his, she clenched them together and held them on the table by sheer force. What she wanted to do was bang them up and down to relieve the tension exploding inside her. Elizabeth wondered how long she had to stay. Her feet already pointed toward the door and it wouldn’t take much to convince them to flee.

“What do you want from me, Blake?” Elizabeth forced the words through clenched teeth.

“To see my daughter. To be her father.”


KIM WATTERS

At twelve years old, Kim fell in love with romance after she borrowed a Harlequin Romance book from her older sister’s bookshelf. An avid reader, she was soon hooked on the happily-ever-after endings. For years she dreamed of writing her own romance novel, but never had the time until she moved from the hustle and bustle of Chicago to a small town north of Phoenix, Arizona.

Kim still lives in that same small town with her two wonderful children, three cats and one neurotic hamster.


And Father Makes Three

Kim Watters






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


I will lead the blind by ways they have not known; along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;

I will turn the darkness into light before them

and make the rough places smooth.

These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them.

—Isaiah 42:16


For Carol Herra and her entire support team.

They never gave up, and through the grace of God, Carol is here today with us because of

the willingness of a bone marrow donor.

I’d like to thank the following groups and staff

for all their help with my research for this book.

The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, www.lls.org/

Be The Match Foundation, www.marrow.org/

The National Marrow Donor Program,

www.marrow.org/

And all the others who tirelessly answered

my questions and didn’t want to be named. Thanks.

I couldn’t have done it without you.

Disclaimer: Any errors or inaccuracies contained within this are the sole responsibility of the author and not of the organizations listed above.


Contents

Chapter One (#uf88c509a-468d-5478-9fc1-bf62b2791868)

Chapter Two (#uf4a32c64-0121-507f-906b-2892df35d05f)

Chapter Three (#ueea553ef-321f-51e2-922f-c19ede9bc676)

Chapter Four (#u5cb06bc3-c37c-5952-a285-cf4783a0f178)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

“Dr. Randall? Dr. Elizabeth Randall?” Pulling her focus from the patient chart in front of her, Elizabeth Randall snapped her attention to the tall man next to her. Anger simmered beneath her calm facade as she took in his brown hair and strong jawline covered with a hint of a five o’clock shadow. Under any other circumstances, she might have found the stranger attractive.

Not now.

“Yes. I was wondering when you’d get here.”

It was about time someone from Child Protective Services showed up. Mario Martinez-Alvarez had been at Agnes P. Kingfisher Memorial Hospital in Scottsdale, Arizona, just under two hours waiting for a caseworker to appear. The child’s black eye and broken ribs had not been caused by a simple fall from a high chair. Mario’s stepfather had been taken into custody and the mother had yet to be found.

Unlike some, Mario would recover, but each time a young innocent victim came through the hospital doors, her heart broke at the injustice. Children were precious. A gift from God that some people took for granted.

Not Elizabeth. Her fingers tightened on the pen in her hand until it became painful.

“Excuse me? You know why I’m here?”

“Of course. The boy has been transferred upstairs. Dr. Harris is his attending now.” After signing her name, Elizabeth closed the chart and turned slightly so she could rest against the nurses’ station. She took in the man’s casual clothing—a dark blue Phoenix Fire Department T-shirt and jeans. In all her experience with CPS caseworkers, she’d yet to come across one dressed so casually, who didn’t carry a briefcase or at least a notebook or day planner of some sort.

Maybe she’d been hasty in her assessment. “You are with CPS, aren’t you?”

Uncertainty clouded his blue eyes as he shifted his weight. “No, I work for the City of Phoenix Fire Department.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Elizabeth softened her tone, feeling guilty for letting her bad day affect her work. It wasn’t his fault her adopted daughter, Jordan, had developed another infection at her IV site. Crossing her arms, she gave the man her full attention. Concern furrowed the lightly tanned skin on his forehead. “How may I help you then, Mr.…?”

“Blake Crawford. Blake William Crawford.”

He spoke his name as if she should know him. He looked vaguely familiar now. If he worked for the fire department, it was quite possible she’d seen him bring in a patient or two, but they’d never been formally introduced. She’d remember meeting someone like him.

She grasped his extended hand, surprised to feel a slight connection. She shook it off as fatigue.

“Dr. Elizabeth Randall. But you knew that. I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage here.”

“I need to talk to you about my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” No female children had been brought into the E.R. today and she’d already met the fathers of the few who had come in over the past week. None of them were Blake Crawford. “I don’t believe I’ve met your daughter. When was she brought in?”

“She wasn’t.”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you. Have you spoken to her pediatrician?”

“I have no idea who her pediatrician is. She doesn’t live with me.” He ran a hand through his short, cropped hair as his gaze darted around the area before it returned to her. “She’s with you.”

Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face and she forgot to breathe. That meant—impossible. Nobody knew the identity of Jordan’s biological father. Not even her. She gasped, trying to fill her lungs with air.

A few doctors and nurses milled around the nurses’ station, watching them with interest as they waited for new patients to arrive. Elizabeth wondered if she was being set up. She glanced at the nurse behind the desk. Lidia busied herself with some paperwork and refused to look up. That was it.

This had all the makings of a great April Fool’s Day and birthday prank.

No one got through their special day in the E.R. without some sort of recognition. At least they hadn’t sent a singing telegram like they had with Dr. Kennedy, or worse like they had with Dr. Emory. But this was cruel. Especially with Jordan’s precarious health. Someone would get a good talking to when Blake fessed up. “Which one of my coworkers put you up to this?”

“No one put me up to this. This isn’t a prank.” He reached out to her, but stopped short. “I have every reason to believe my daughter is living with you.”

One by one, her coworkers took off in various directions without so much as a word. Dread pounded in her veins. The hard edge of the counter bit into her back, so Elizabeth adjusted her position. But nothing seemed comfortable as long as the man who believed he was her daughter’s biological father remained in her view with expectation written in his eyes.

Until she figured out if there was any real truth to this story, this was one conversation she did not want her coworkers to hear. Rumors and gossip blew through the hospital like an out-of-control dust storm, and she didn’t need Jordan hearing the news and getting her hopes up. They had enough to deal with already.

“Come with me.” Gently taking his arm, she led him outside the E.R. toward the towering mesquite tree where the administration had placed a wrought-iron bench in memory of her late husband, Dr. Thomas Randall. Tom. The love of her life. She could sure use his guidance right now because sitting there with another man who claimed to be their daughter’s biological father didn’t feel right, but her only other choice was the noisy cafeteria at lunchtime.

She motioned for Blake to sit yet she remained standing. Folding her arms, she watched him hunker down and wedge his elbows against his knees. A horn honked in the distance and the constant thrum of traffic blended in with the coo of the pigeons as the sunlight glistened off the palm trees lining 92nd Street.

“What makes you think your daughter is with me?”

“Does the name Tessa Pruitt ring a bell?”

Tessa Pruitt! “Should it?”

“Yes. She was the mother of my child.”

Panic churned the coffee in her stomach. No one else knew the name of Jordan’s birth mother. Not even Elizabeth’s best friend, Susie. This wasn’t a joke.

But Tessa had told Elizabeth she didn’t know who Jordan’s father was. Why had she lied all these years?

Elizabeth yearned to sprint away from the madness surrounding her. Run until her lungs burned and her muscles screamed in protest. But she couldn’t. She had a job to do and a daughter to care for. Elizabeth’s stomach lurched as she sank down on the bench next to him and covered her face with her hands. “Tessa was one of my best friends. But what makes you think you’re her daughter’s father?”

* * *

“She sent me a letter.” Blake turned his head and studied the tall, thin woman with short, dark, wavy hair wearing light blue scrubs printed with colorful crayons and a lab coat. Her long, delicate fingers cradled her face, hiding it from his view.

What was she thinking?

He’d had a week to come to terms with the knowledge he was a father. Apparently he’d blindsided Dr. Randall with the news. She probably thought she’d get to keep his child. Tiredness swept over him and he ran his hand across his face. Last night’s paintball marathon with his old high school buddy, Eric Stevens, was best left to the teenagers they used to be, not thirtysomethings who should know better. Blake paid the price today.

An ambulance pulled out from the overhang by the E.R. doors. A Scottsdale team, not Phoenix, but it didn’t matter—they shared a camaraderie nonetheless. He nodded to the driver as he went by. Coming to see Dr. Randall at work probably hadn’t been the smartest move, but he had no other contact information.

He had to see for himself if there was any truth to Tessa’s story. From Dr. Randall’s stunned reaction, his ex-wife’s words were true. Hope surged—the girl was his only remaining family member. Despite his fears about parenting, he wanted to meet this child and be a part of her life.

Blake stood and scratched the back of his neck as he paced the dusty-brown earth in front of the bench. Brittle mesquite beans crunched under his feet. “You know Tessa died three months ago.”

“Yes, from a ruptured brain aneurysm. We always remained friends even though she decided med school wasn’t her thing after her first year.” A tear slid down Elizabeth’s cheek.

“Yeah, med school wasn’t my thing, either.” Blake reached out, but stopped short of wiping the moisture away. He didn’t like the effect this woman had on him. He hadn’t had a reaction like this since Tessa. And look where that relationship had ended up.

A moment of silence lingered between the two.

“It’s not for everybody.” He watched Elizabeth dry her cheeks and regain her composure. “The last time I saw her was right after Christmas two weeks before she died. I knew something was wrong. Her forgetfulness—or spells, as she called them—had become a lot more frequent and her headaches much worse. But she blew off my concerns and focused more than usual on Jordan, as if she suspected something. If only I’d known.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. Tessa lived by her own rules. When she made up her mind about something, no one could change it.” He tapped his thumb against his jean-clad knee. Something didn’t add up. Dr. Randall didn’t know him, or anything about him, and yet his child was with her. Tessa had always had a secretive side to her and liked to play games. Apparently nothing had changed.

Blake reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter from his ex-wife. It weighed only an ounce, but felt like a ton. The cryptic knowledge it contained had changed his life completely last week, as it would the woman’s sitting next to him. Tessa’s words on the crisp linen stationery days before her death bound them together.

He handed her the envelope. “Here. This will explain things.”

He’d learned of Tessa’s death through her attorney a week ago. Sadness burned the blood in his veins. The grief he’d seen on countless faces as an EMT and fireman for the Phoenix Fire Department clouded his vision. Gone. Dead. He’d loved her, or thought he’d had, but in the end, they were just another statistic.

Unsure if his legs could carry his weight, Blake sat back down next to Elizabeth, making sure to keep as much distance between them as the bench allowed. As she pulled out the paper, he wedged his elbows against his knees, and stared down at an ant carrying a huge crumb, reminding him that struggle was everywhere in life.

He attempted to fill his lungs with much-needed air. As he squeezed his eyes shut, an image of Tessa appeared behind his lids as it had every day since he’d learned of her death. Her long, mocha-colored hair contrasted with her milky-white skin. Her warm, generous smile and chocolate-brown eyes along with her positive outlook on life had shone a ray of hope into the darkness consuming him.

His inability to allow anyone to get really close to him had caused him to blow the best thing that had ever happened in his life.

Now all that remained was a child that he had no idea how to be a father to. He’d better learn quickly. And Tessa had made sure the woman sitting beside him would help. That must be why she’d left his daughter with her.

“I don’t understand this.” Elizabeth stared at him, shock registering in her light blue eyes as she inhaled sharply. Her fingers strangled the stethoscope around her neck until her knuckles gleamed in the bright April sunshine. The moisture gathering in her eyes added another layer of depth to her character, and it rocked him.

“My ex-wife was obviously pregnant when we split up. She had a child and decided not to tell me until after her death.”

“She said she didn’t know who the father was. She never told me she’d been married.”

“We never told anyone. It didn’t last long enough.” Remorse filled him.

Blake took the letter back, scanning the contents again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. His fingers shook as he took in her slanted, curvy handwriting, which she obviously struggled to create.



Blake,

I hope this letter finds you well. There are two things I want to tell you and I know I don’t have a lot of time left. My brain aneurysm is inoperable and my symptoms are getting worse, which is why I’m putting my affairs in order.

I actually find it kind of ironic that I would die first when you were the one who always took the risks, but such is life. I’ve found God and have been praying daily to find answers, and I’ve finally found peace. I hope you will someday, too. I love you. I always did, always will.

First, I’m sorry I ran out on our marriage, but I only wanted you to be happy. I couldn’t give you what you needed. I hope some day you find someone who can, if you haven’t already.

Second, you are a father. Your daughter is with Elizabeth Randall, who works at Kingfisher Memorial in Scottsdale. Since I cannot be a part of her life anymore, I’m passing on that responsibility to you.

I’m sorry I never told you, and am only doing so with a letter, but I was a coward then, and things still haven’t changed. I suppose I could have found you all those years ago, but I did what I thought best for both of you. I can only hope you’ll forgive me when you see what a beautiful daughter we created. A daughter who needs you. They both do. Please go to them now that you’ve read this letter and love your daughter like I did. Elizabeth can answer any other questions you might have.

With love,

Tessa



Nothing had changed since the day he’d received it. What he couldn’t figure out was why Tessa’s attorney had waited over two months to contact him, or why Elizabeth needed his help. He knew why he needed hers.

He was a father. No longer the last of the Crawfords in this line.

Blake folded the paper back up and tucked it into his pocket again. “What’s her name?”

“Tessa named her Jordan.”

“Jordan?” Somehow Blake managed to keep his voice low and even. Jordan had been his mother’s maiden name. Tessa truly had loved him in spite of his flaws. So why had she left him? And why had she kept the knowledge of their daughter’s existence from him?

This whole conversation was surreal. He’d come to meet the woman who had Jordan so he could make arrangements to see her. Take her home with him. Learn to be a good father, not like the one who’d raised him. And yet fear gripped his heart.

This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. With his schedule, how could he take care of a child? Who would watch her when he pulled his twenty-four-hour shifts? He’d have to buy a bigger condo, or maybe even a house. What did he even know about kids anyway, especially preteen girls?

None of that mattered. He’d figure it out. “When can I pick her up?”

“Pick her up?” Confusion filled Elizabeth’s voice, followed by compassion. “I’m sorry, Blake, but Jordan’s my daughter now. My late husband and I adopted her.”

“What? When?”

“At birth.”

“Wait a minute. At birth? So why— This doesn’t make any sense.” He jumped up and began to pace, leaving a trail in the dirt.

“I’m sorry you were sent here on a wild-goose chase, Blake. I have no idea why Tessa would be so cruel to either one of us.”

Sirens sounded in the distance and Elizabeth’s phone chirped. He knew she was wrestling with wanting to be in two places at once. Her patients depended on her, but this was an important conversation. Her gaze flipped between the hospital and him.

“This is far from over.”

“What do you want from me, Blake?”

Elizabeth rose to her full height, which almost matched his, and drilled him with her gaze. But he refused to be intimidated by the doctor.

“I want my daughter.”

* * *

“So who was the dude in the blue T-shirt?” Susie Tan stared at Elizabeth over the rim of her coffee cup in the hospital cafeteria a few hours later. The nurse’s lips formed a straight line. “You looked upset when you returned.”

“Jordan’s biological father.”

“Whoa. Wait a minute. He’s what?” Susie’s eyebrows rose and her mouth dropped open.

Elizabeth’s fingers tightened around the foam coffee cup. “Jordan’s father. Apparently the mother lied about not knowing his identity. They were married at the time of Jordan’s conception.”

“Oh, Elizabeth, I’m so sorry. What does he want?” Marcella Rodriguez from the Labor & Delivery department asked.

“Jordan.” Elizabeth barely contained the sob in her voice.

“Does he know?” Susie questioned.

“No.” Elizabeth took a sip of her coffee and scalded her tongue. She closed her eyes and shifted in the hard, plastic chair. How would Blake react to his daughter’s illness? Would it make him go away and leave them alone?

Wrong. That wasn’t fair of her.

“What I don’t get is why now? Why didn’t he come forward years ago?”

“He just found out.”

“Do you suppose he knows something you don’t?” Marcella flipped open the tab of her diet soda, worry creasing her brow. “I mean, I know you won’t want to hear this, but are you sure the adoption was legal? I’d think he would have had to sign off on it, which means he knew about his ex-wife’s pregnancy. The fact he didn’t…”

Elizabeth inhaled sharply and opened her eyes. Ice momentarily chilled her veins. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about. She dragged in a painful breath as his last words rang in her ears. “I want my daughter!”

“Hey, I’m sure the adoption was legal.” Susie interjected. “You know this might work in your favor. A father without all the complications, and it would be nice for you to have someone else to help you through this.”

“Knights in shining armor only appear in fairy tales. I’d still make sure about the adoption. My cousin knows an adoption attorney—he handled their adoption last year.” Concern now laced Marcella’s voice as she ripped open a candy bar and popped a piece of chocolate into her mouth. “I’ll get Arturo’s work number for you unless you can track down the original attorney.”

“It’s probably not necessary, but thanks. I’d appreciate that.” Elizabeth toyed with the salt and pepper shakers on the table to keep her fingers from trembling. Every once in a while—like today—memories of the day she adopted Jordan haunted her. Had she done the right thing all those years ago when she came up with a solution for Tessa’s pregnancy? What if the adoption wasn’t legal after all? What if Blake decided he wanted custody?

What if she lost Jordan in another way?

An uncomfortable silence lingered at the table as Marcella finished up her snack and Susie fingered the red-and-white stir stick in her coffee cup. “So who’s up to seeing a movie Friday night?”

“I am. Are you, Elizabeth? You could use a night out.”

Elizabeth unwound her fingers from the shakers and forced a smile to her lips. “Sure. After I get Jordan to sleep.”

Susie crushed Marcella’s candy wrapper and stuffed it inside her empty coffee cup. “Sounds like a plan.”

Elizabeth’s phone chirped, signaling a text. Pulling out her BlackBerry, she glanced at the message and sighed. “Gotta run. Jordan’s doctor wants to see me.”

* * *

“—I pray the Lord my soul to keep. Amen.”

“Amen.” As Elizabeth gently squeezed her nine-year-old daughter’s hand, anxiety twisted her muscles into a knot. Jordan had lost more weight and her bald spots were more prominent from her last round of chemo. Soon they’d have to shave off the rest of her shoulder-length, dark brown hair. Elizabeth contained the sob in her throat. Jordan had to get better.

Please, God, heal my daughter.

Still kneeling beside her hospital bed, Jordan lifted her head and gazed out the window. Elizabeth knew she looked into the twilight, pretending to see God’s face smiling down at her. While Elizabeth didn’t have her daughter’s imagination and would only see the darkening horizon, the outline of another building to the left of the hospital and the silhouette of Camelback Mountain in the distance, she still felt His love, and the emerging twinkling stars filled her with hope.

While her faith hadn’t waned over the course of Jordan’s illness, the trips to the hospital and doctors’ offices had superseded attending church. That was going to change. Just yesterday, she’d again seen the power of belief when a five-year-old accident victim came through the E.R. doors and the family and friends kept up a silent vigil during the successful three-hour surgery.

Another quick prayer slipped through Elizabeth’s lips.

With the decreasing activity on the children’s floor of the hospital, stillness crept into the room. Elizabeth massaged her daughter’s bony shoulders. So far this bout of leukemia had robbed Jordan of three months of a normal childhood. Yet some of the other children on the floor faced far worse battles. She prayed that they would find a compatible bone-marrow donor and that the doctors here would find cures for the rest of the children.

“Now in bed with you.” Elizabeth helped her daughter slide between the white sheets and settle against her favorite purple-and-pink butterfly pillow. Elizabeth sat on the side of the bed and leaned over to give her a kiss. “Good night, sweetpea. I love you.”

“Good night, Mom. I love you, too.”

Elizabeth caressed Jordan’s cheek. So soft, so innocent, so young. This illness had to be part of God’s plan. He’d drawn her into medicine so that she could assist others, and with His help, she’d find a way to save her daughter.

But did that include Blake Crawford?

Elizabeth folded back the blanket and smoothed out the creases. “We’ll get through this, Jordan. I promise.”

“I know. We did before.” Jordan gave her a tired grin.

“Yes, we did. And this time, we’ll make sure it doesn’t come back.” Rising to her feet, Elizabeth turned off the lights and left the room. Once outside, she leaned against the wall.

Maintaining a positive attitude around Jordan drained her. Overhead, the fluorescent lights dimmed, signaling the end of visiting hours. The harsh, institutional glare made her miss the warm, inviting atmosphere of their two-bedroom townhome. A townhome which stood vacant now because Elizabeth had moved into the doctors’ quarters downstairs while her daughter remained in the hospital.

If only Blake knew how close he was to Jordan when he came to see her today. Did he really want his daughter? Was there anything she could do to stop him?

She squeezed her eyelids shut, glad the hallway was empty. The sound of rustling sheets inside Jordan’s room caught her attention and Elizabeth strained to hear her daughter’s soft, tired voice floating into the hallway.

“Please, God, bring me another daddy before I die. Then Mommy won’t be so lonely anymore. Good night.”

Before I die.

Jordan had lost her will to live, and they still had a long way to go to beat the leukemia. Dipping her head, Elizabeth lost her hard-won composure. She bit her lip as a tear slid down her cheek. Jordan’s nightly prayer still hadn’t changed, not that she expected it would.

Had God been listening? Is that why Blake had shown up when he did? Or did his appearance have another meaning—one that might not have a happy-ever-after ending after all?


Chapter Two

“Let’s go.” Blake motioned to his partner, Corey Abrahamson, the following morning. He wheeled the stretcher toward the emergency room doors that led outside to the waiting ambulance. The accident had been a fender bender, yet they’d brought the elderly man to the hospital to be checked over as a precaution.

Now that the call was over, Blake had nothing but time on his hands and a daughter on his mind. He helped Corey lift the stretcher into the back of the ambulance, figuring that Elizabeth Randall was off today because he hadn’t seen her in the E.R. Maybe she was with a patient.

Suddenly he realized that outside Kingfisher, he had no way of contacting her. After closing and securing the doors, he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and quickly scribbled a note.

“Hang on. I forgot something.” He strode back through the doors and left the note with the nurse behind the desk. Elizabeth wouldn’t get his phone number until Monday, but there was nothing he could do about that. Sweet-talking the young intern had only resulted in finding out the doctor’s next shift.

A doctor. Now that he’d met the woman and reality was setting in, dread pounded in his heart. Tessa had given their daughter up for adoption to a doctor.

Not that his late ex-wife would have known about his aversion to doctors, because they’d met in med school when Blake was still trying to gain his father’s approval. In their whirlwind courtship and brief marriage, Dr. William Crawford—the cutting-edge heart surgeon—had never been mentioned. It didn’t take long for Blake to realize he didn’t want to be a doctor, and he quit. After Tessa left him, he enlisted in the army instead of returning home to face his father’s wrath. And right about that time, he started living for the moment and seeking out every thrill he could find. While others went out and saved the world, he spent his money and time trying to save himself from the demons of his youth. With a daughter now, he had to start thinking of someone else. It rocked him to the core.

“All set now?” Corey leaned against the side of the ambulance.

“Yes.” Blake strode to the driver’s side of the cab. Once inside, he snapped his seat belt into place and flipped the switch to let dispatch know they were available for another call. Blake pulled air into his lungs, yet suffocation still threatened to pull him under. “What’s it like being a dad?”

His question startled the other man. No surprise there—sports and food usually dominated their conversations.

Corey gave him a dubious look.

“Did Karen put you up to this?”

“No.”

Blake started the engine, put the ambulance in drive and pulled out into the parking lot. Once the numbness had worn off, the anticipation he’d felt earlier when he’d read the letter from Tessa returned. Another generation of Crawfords existed. Responsibility weighed on his shoulders, but he knew the right thing to do. He would meet Jordan and be a part of her life, despite the adoption. Dr. Randall couldn’t keep him from her forever.

But what would happen then? Apprehension gripped his heart.

Would Jordan reject him like everyone else in his life?

“I just found out last week I’m a father.”

“How’d you find out?” His partner whistled as Blake stopped the ambulance at a red light. As he tapped the steering wheel impatiently, waiting for the signal to change, both Tessa’s and Elizabeth’s faces rose in his mind’s eye. How different they were, yet his late ex-wife had changed his life in one way, and the doctor would as well when she allowed him to see Jordan. “I received a letter from my ex-wife’s attorney last week.”

“I never knew you were married.”

“Not many people do. It’s not one of the highlights of my life.” Blake sighed.

“What happened?”

“We were too young. I didn’t understand what it took to be a good husband. Tessa probably didn’t have any confidence in me as a father either, because after she split she never told me she was pregnant.” Blake hit the gas and stared out the window as streets and houses replaced strip malls. Tension tightened his neck muscles and bracketed his mouth. “I want to meet her, but I’m scared I’ll blow it. I don’t know how to do it. What’s it like?”

Corey didn’t answer until they’d stopped at another light. “I think you’d make a good father. You’re there for people when they need it and that’s what matters. This’ll sound cliché, but being a parent is one of the most rewarding and frustrating jobs there is. There’s no instruction manual, you just kind of wing it.”

That was the problem. He’d had no relationship with his father and had no idea how to start. His daughter was almost ten years old—the past had already been repeated.

A strange emotion pulled at his heart when he thought about the daughter he had yet to meet. An unbreakable bond had been set in place the moment he’d received the letter. In an instant, clarity whacked him and he gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline.

Blowing it with Jordan was only the beginning of his worries.

* * *

“Have a second?” Blake knocked on the partially open door to Dr. Eric Stevens’s office inside Kingfisher Memorial Hospital late Tuesday afternoon. He thought Elizabeth would have contacted him by now, but apparently not. He glanced at his cell phone again to see if he’d missed a call. Nothing.

The woman couldn’t avoid him forever. As Jordan’s biological father, he should have some rights, even if someone else had adopted his daughter.

Surprise shone in his paintball buddy’s eyes. “Sure. Come in. Ready to talk about your defeat?”

“I’ll challenge you to a rematch anytime you’re ready.” Striding into the room, Blake suffered déjà vu. His late father’s office had been laid out the same way, even though it was farther down the hall. All the hours he’d spent inside this building after middle school crowded his brain, and anxiety twisted his stomach. Blake had spent most of his time reading his father’s books and trailing after medical staff to learn the ropes.

Other twelve-year-olds were playing basketball, while he was watching open-heart surgery.

Blake sank down in a chair before his knees gave out. He’d fainted during that procedure, a fact his father never let him forget. Beads of sweat formed on his upper lip and forehead.

Outside of the E.R., Blake hadn’t stepped foot in the deep interior of Kingfisher again until today.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods, then?” Eric pulled his glasses from his face and set them down on the file he’d been reading, tipping back in his chair. Piles of research files and books leaned dangerously to one side and three half-empty foam cups lined the edge, ready to topple into the overflowing garbage can.

Having grown up blocks from each other, his best friend knew more about Blake than anyone. Even Tessa, which was probably another problem in their marriage. Instead of talking, Blake kept things bottled up. The less people knew, the less chance of his getting hurt.

“Dr. Randall. You know her?”

Eric eyed him warily. “Sure. But she hardly interacts with anyone outside the E.R. Why?”

Sweat rolled down Blake’s forehead. “Her daughter is mine.”

“What?” The front legs of Eric’s battered chair thudded against the carpeted floor. “Jordan is yours? How did that happen? I didn’t know you knew Elizabeth all those years ago.” His eyes widened as he stared at Blake from the other side of his small, cramped desk.

“I didn’t know her. She adopted Jordan from my ex-wife.”

“Wow.” Eric fingered a vintage World War I model airplane on the only part of his desk that wasn’t buried under mounds of stuff. Deftly, he avoided Blake’s gaze.

“Wait a minute. If she doesn’t interact with anyone here, how do you know about Jordan?” Blake wanted to grab the sleek yellow bi-winged plane from his friend’s hands and force him to concentrate on the conversation. Things hadn’t changed much since high school, and Eric was still the master of dodging uncomfortable situations. He spun the propeller around with his pointer finger and stared at it intently.

“Despite Dr. Randall’s attempts to keep it private, nothing goes unnoticed by the staff. Especially because Jordan is being treated here.”

“What do you mean she’s being treated here?” The blood drained from Blake’s face. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Dr. Randall didn’t tell you?”

“No. What’s wrong with my daughter? Tell me.” Blake curled his fingers around the arms of his chair to keep from jumping up.

Eric dusted the empty spot on the desk with his palm before he put the plane back. Then he leaned back, the front legs of his chair off the floor again. “We watch each other’s backs here at Kingfisher. I can’t. I’ve said too much as it is. Dr. Randall will have to tell you herself.” Compassion filled Eric’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Blake, in more ways than one. Life stinks sometimes.”

“Tell me about it.” Tension bit into Blake’s shoulder muscles, still a tad sore from their recent paintball excursion. “Dr. Randall has a lot of explaining to do, if I can get a few minutes of her time.”

Eric steepled his fingers together underneath his chin. “Because we have a history of running wild together and my dad bailed you out of a few scrapes, there are a few other things you need to know about Dr. Randall.”

“Like what?” Having grown up with a doctor, Blake didn’t think anything could surprise him.

“She’s a genius who intimidates everyone on staff. Me included. My dad’s the only one who isn’t intimidated by her, but then again he’s been here forever. He’s retiring—they’re throwing a party for him Saturday night. You should stop by. He’d like to see you again.”

“Dr. Randall sounds like my father,” Blake said, ignoring his friend’s attempt to change the subject.

“Dr. Randall did a fast track. She graduated from Harvard at twenty-two and finished her residency before most students get through med school. Most people her age are just getting their feet wet in a hospital setting, not passing their five-year anniversary mark.”

“I can handle that.” Blake stood. “She’s working today, isn’t she?”

Eric made a quick call. “If you wander down to the E.R., you’ll run in to her, but her shift’s almost over. I’m not done yet.” He paused and eyed Blake warily. “She’s also the widow of the late renowned heart surgeon Thomas Randall.”

Thomas Randall. The Thomas Randall? The name conjured up a big, black hole in Blake’s heart. His father had mentored Thomas Randall, but he’d died young, much to his father’s grief. In Dr. Crawford’s eyes, Tommy had been the son Blake would never be. And now that his father was gone, Blake would never have the chance to prove otherwise.

He squeezed the bridge of his nose. How could Tessa give away his child to Thomas Randall? All work and no play left no time for any family time. No matter how many times Blake had begged his father to play ball with him or come to one of his games, his dad was too busy helping others.

Resentment, anger and disappointment fought for dominance. Blake didn’t know what type of mother Elizabeth was, but his daughter would not suffer the same lonely existence he had. With Thomas Randall dead, Jordan needed a father.

And not just any man that Elizabeth might be involved with. Jordan needed her real father. Now.

“Are you okay?” Eric’s question brought him back to the present.

“Thanks for the info, I’ll see you around.” He strode to the door and shot his friend a quick smile as he marched into the hallway, determined to find Elizabeth Randall.

* * *

Her shift over, Elizabeth wanted to grab a quick bite before she went upstairs to visit Jordan. As she headed out the E.R. doors, her head down, she crashed into someone.

“Oh, excuse me,” said a warm, masculine voice.

“No, excuse me. My fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She looked up and found herself face-to-face with Blake Crawford. He was better looking than she’d remembered. His short, cropped brown hair accented the smooth planes of his cheeks and his strong jawline covered with a hint of a five o’clock shadow. Dimples creased his cheeks and laugh lines crowded the corners of his eyes despite the fact that he wore a frown.

“Blake?” Jordan’s father was on the receiving end of her inability to stay focused on her surroundings. Not good. As a doctor, she needed to be aware of what went on around her. What if she screwed up in triage? What if she made a life-threatening mistake?

Jordan’s health had started to affect her ability to remain calm and composed. Wouldn’t the head nurse love to see unflappable Dr. Randall right now? Her skin prickled. The anxiety she felt when she first held the tiny infant in her arms almost ten years ago resurfaced. At that time, though, she’d had Tom to help her. Was it possible that Blake Crawford could fill in and take over the role of father like Jordan wanted?

There could only be one reason why Blake had come today: to confront her. He must have found out the truth about her part in the adoption, and he’d come to try to take Jordan away. She’d fight him every step of the way.

“I’m thirsty. Care to join me?” Not giving her a choice, Blake took her arm and led her into the cafeteria.

Five minutes later, after grabbing their food, Blake spoke her name as if testing it out. “Elizabeth Randall. Sorry to hear about your husband.”

“You knew Tom?”

“Only by reputation.” His words had an edge to them.

“Thank you.” Elizabeth wished she was privy to whatever thoughts or ideas whirled around inside his brain. Everyone liked Tom. To her knowledge, her husband had never caused that type of reaction before.

“So what kind of doctor are you?”

His question surprised her. “A pediatric emergency room doctor.”

After sending up a quick, silent prayer of thanks for her meal, she bit into her sandwich, not surprised it had no taste. None of the cafeteria food really did.

“So you only help kids.”

“Yes, unless I happen to be the only doctor available.” Pain radiated from Elizabeth’s core. While she helped others, Jordan’s cure remained out of her reach, and it killed her to watch the leukemia gain an upper hand. She had to have faith that God knew what He was doing. Maybe bringing Jordan’s father into her life could tip the scales in the right direction. She noticed Blake eyeing her, as if sensing her inner turmoil.

“That must be a tough gig.”

“It has its moments, but it’s also very rewarding at the end of the day.” Dragging in a ragged breath, she prayed for strength to get through the rest of the night. Jordan’s fever had broken late this afternoon, but she wasn’t out of danger.

A family of four helped themselves to food from the vending machine stationed near the rear of the cafeteria. The girl, dressed in basketball attire, looked to be a few years older than Jordan. Would her daughter ever be healthy enough to play sports or visit with her friends? Yes. Elizabeth would make certain that happened. The leukemia would go into remission again, and Jordan would grow up and become the veterinarian she wanted to be.

“So can you help Jordan?” Questions filled his blue eyes and held her in her seat.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” Elizabeth fought to breathe. What did Blake know about Jordan?

“Really? You have nothing at all to tell me about my daughter? Like that she’s sick?”

Elizabeth felt the blood leave her cheeks. Lightheaded, she reached out for the table, but her hand connected with the Blake’s. “Who told you?”

Blake ignored her question, taking her hand. “What’s wrong with her?”

She tried to extricate herself from his grasp. He only tightened his grip.

“Jordan has leukemia. It’s come out of remission.”

“Leukemia?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth’s voice trembled, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken. She closed her eyes to avoid the pain written in his.

“Since Tessa was a part of Jordan’s life, she knew about it, didn’t she?”

Elizabeth nodded, remembering how despite her own pain, Tessa was there right after they learned of Jordan’s relapse. Her friend had been there for her until the end.

“So that’s why she said my daughter needed me.” Silence filled the space between them.

Grief, anger and regret sucker punched Blake in the gut. Rubbing his eyes, he leaned back in his chair to distance himself. His daughter was dying. He had yet to meet her and he could lose her, too. A renewed sense of urgency took hold. “When do I get to meet Jordan?”

Elizabeth toyed with the straw in her coffee, avoiding his gaze.

“Elizabeth? She’s the last of my family. I have every right to meet her. It’s what Tessa wanted. It’s what I want.” Blake squeezed her hands. When she gazed up at him, her light blue eyes shone with fear. In a heartbeat, Blake understood.

She was afraid of losing Jordan. Not only to the leukemia ravaging her body, but to him.

A commotion caught Elizabeth’s attention and she stopped one of the E.R. staff as they strode by. “What’s going on?”

“Accident. Five on their way in. Three kids.”

“I’ll be right there.” Half-finished cups of coffee and sandwiches were the story of her life, only this time she was glad to leave it behind. Elizabeth’s heart raced. She wasn’t on duty, but she knew her services would probably be needed for a few hours. She’d make sure to see Jordan before her bedtime.

She rose hastily, scraping the chair on the tile. The lights seemed to grow brighter, magnifying the man next to her. She couldn’t avoid Blake’s request for long. What if Marcella was right? What if the adoption wasn’t legal? What if Blake met his daughter and wanted custody?

“Sorry to cut this short but I’m needed in the E.R. Thanks for dinner.”

“This conversation isn’t over yet.”

Elizabeth held her ground. “It is for now. Please excuse me.”

Blake wasn’t ready to let the doctor out of his sight. “I’ll come with you.”

As he escorted her down the hall, he could tell that his words had fallen on deaf ears. Elizabeth had already shut him out, just like his dad used to do. She was his father all over again.

His long strides ate up the tile flooring as he kept pace with the woman. Her face expressionless, he knew she was already in the E.R., mentally going over how to treat her future patients. Neither he nor the janitor polishing the floor existed.

Invisible. Again. Was she this way with their daughter? Suddenly Blake was ten-years-old and waiting for his father to help him build his derby car for the Cub Scout Pack race. A race he never participated in because his block of wood never made it out of the box. His mother had always helped him before, but she’d died ten months earlier from breast cancer. After that, he’d quit scouting like he’d quit almost everything else he’d started in his life.

He wasn’t going to quit this time. He wanted to meet his daughter. She was the only thing that tied him to Tessa. “I will meet Jordan, Elizabeth. You can count on that.”

“Only on my terms.” Her lips drew a straight line. In the distance, he heard the adrenaline-pumping screech of the sirens as the first ambulance pulled in.

He mentally shook himself. Lives stood on the line here. There was no telling how extensive the injuries were. And in her defense, she had been giving him her full attention until the call came in. A piece of understanding wormed its way past the painful memories of his father.

Once inside the E.R., she discarded her purse underneath the desk, then pulled on her lab coat and kept moving.

“Dr. Randall?” A harried nurse stopped short of running into her. She clutched her clipboard to her chest, a look of relief on her face.

“I was in the cafeteria. What are we looking at?”

“An SUV ran a red light and T-boned a car.”

Blake felt useless and in the way. He only did fieldwork—basic life support—this wasn’t his territory. This was Elizabeth’s domain. Why had he insisted on coming?

After marching to the sink, Elizabeth turned on the tap and scrubbed her hands. The sliding doors to their right swooshed open and a paramedic and EMT wheeled in the first patient. After throwing her paper towel away, he watched Elizabeth clasp her hands and bow her head.

“What are you doing?” he asked as another ambulance arrived.

“Praying.”

“Praying?” She didn’t strike him as the religious type. He wondered if he should tell her prayer didn’t really work—if it did, his mother would still be alive.

“Yes. Praying. I don’t do my work alone.” She strode away from him and never looked back.


Chapter Three

“You should really wait for Dr. Randall before you do this.” Eric stopped beside Blake outside room 403. “All it takes is one look and bam, she’ll nail you to the wall. I’ve seen her reduce interns to tears.”

“I’ve met worse. Her bark couldn’t be any worse than my dad’s. I can handle Dr. Randall.”

“Yeah, well, your dad wasn’t so good-looking.”

Blake looked at Eric, surprised. Dr. Randall was a looker, he couldn’t deny that.

“Didn’t think you ever noticed women anymore, Eric. You always have your head in a book or worse, glue all over your hands from your model kits.”

Eric grinned. “I have my eye on one of the nurses in the E.R.”

“Maybe you should live on the edge a bit and ask her out, then.”

“Maybe you should call Dr. Randall instead of asking me to sneak you into the Children’s Wing.” Eric folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall.

“We didn’t exactly sneak in. I asked and you delivered.” Blake flexed his hands as he stood outside of his daughter’s room. Getting the visitor badge had been the easy part. The receptionist downstairs hadn’t even batted an eye when Eric told her their destination. “My guess is we weren’t even in the elevator before the receptionist called the E.R. and told Dr. Randall I was here. I suspect she’ll be joining us momentarily.”

“Still. This doesn’t feel right. What are you going to say to Jordan?”

“Look, I’ve waited three days for Dr. Randall to call. I’ve got to force her hand. I deserve to at least see my daughter.”

“Maybe she’s been busy.”

Like Blake’s father always had been. Some people should have never been parents.

Did Blake fall into that category? Tessa thought so. Why else had she given Jordan up without consulting him?

Leaning back, Blake allowed the unforgiving wall to bite into his back. Inside the room he heard the drone of the television tuned to some kids’ channel.

What did girls like to do? What did they watch? What did they talk about? Blake hadn’t thought this through. He couldn’t just barge in and say, “Jordan, I am your father.”

“Maybe you’re right. This wasn’t one of my most brilliant moves.”

“Look, I’ve got to get back downstairs. Don’t do anything that’s going to get me in trouble. In fact, if you’re smart, you’ll wait for Dr. Randall to call.”

“We all know I’m not smart. That’s why I dropped out of med school.”

“Stop being so hard on yourself.”

“I will if you go ask that nurse out.”

Eric smiled and headed down the hall. “Good luck, man,” he said.

A band of sweat broke out on his forehead despite the air-conditioned temperature inside the hospital. He hovered, unsure of his next move. Just inside the open doorway to his left Jordan Randall lay in a hospital bed, her body ravaged with leukemia. Unlike in his childhood, this time around he understood what cancer was and knew the implications.

What if she didn’t make it?

He’d spent most of his adult life running from emotional commitment because he didn’t want to feel the pain of abandonment again. Still, he had to see the child he and Tessa had created, and be a father even though he had no example to work from. William Crawford would never have won a father of the year award.

Inside the room he heard Jordan cough.

This was crazy. Could he deal with her sickness?

Yes. He had no choice. He’d been given an opportunity. Somehow he knew this was where he was supposed to be, except it would be better if Elizabeth were here.

He should leave.

In a few minutes.

Once he took a peek.

No interaction. Just one tiny glance to see what she looked like, then wait for Elizabeth to call. Which she would once she found out he’d been up to the fourth floor.

Do it. He commanded his body. He’d pretend he’d walked into the wrong room, see her and leave.

A bead of moisture meandered down Blake’s cheek as he remained plastered against the wall. The rapid sound of footsteps caught his attention.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Elizabeth asked.

His plan worked. “I came to see my daughter.”

“How did you manage to convince Dr. Stevens to get you in?”

“Eric and I go way back. If it makes you feel any better, he was against the whole idea.”

“At least someone had sense. I need to ask you to leave.” A chill descended around them.

“I’ve waited days without a word from you. I’m not going away, Elizabeth. Not until I meet her. I’m her father, I think I have that right.”

“You have no rights. The adoption was legal.” But the hesitation and doubt in her eyes told another story.

“We’ll see about that.”

He watched the color drain from her cheeks. The invincible Dr. Randall had disappeared, leaving behind the mother of a sick child struggling for control. Instinctively, he reached out to make sure she didn’t fall down. The cool, crispness of her lab coat contrasted the warmth permeating from her skin.

“Is that a threat, Blake?” she whispered harshly as panic twisted her features. Her gaze darted from him to Jordan’s room.

He felt like a cad, but he had no choice. “It’s a promise.”

When she turned to step away, he put his hand out again. His gaze traveled slowly over her as if he were memorizing her in detail. Keeping his voice low, he ground out the words. “Don’t shut me out, Elizabeth. Please.”

“You can’t meet her. Not now. Not yet.”

“Why not? Doesn’t she know she’s adopted?”

Defeat flickered across her face. “No.”

The knowledge sucker punched him in the gut. “I don’t understand. Tessa—the letter—”

“There’s so much you don’t know, but I don’t feel comfortable talking about it here.”

“Then where would you suggest we go?”

The awareness that his hand lingered on her arm made it difficult for her to breathe or come up with anything to say. All she knew was that she felt inadequate and unworthy of the gift God had given her when the obstetrician placed Jordan in her arms, especially now.

Elizabeth felt the weight of everyone’s stares on the fourth floor even though she knew it to be a figment of her imagination. The kids on the floor would be oblivious to them, and their parents too occupied to care. The staff might notice Blake, who was sure to set the hospital gossip mill into action, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

Inhaling sharply, she held her breath for a few moments to calm the storm raging inside her. She’d get through this as she had every other uncomfortable incident in her life—by sheer force. She gave Blake a fractured smile and found her voice. “We’ll go to the staff break room. This way.”

Once inside the small room, her gaze swept over the hands that knew how to cradle, knew how to comfort, knew how to help. Would they help his daughter? Or was this just an act before he decided to rip Jordan from the only home she’d ever known?

What if he tried to contest the adoption? What if he actually sued for custody? Fear and anguish shredded her composure. Why had her attorney suddenly decided to take an extended vacation? She needed to get Arturo’s phone number from Marcella.

Elizabeth sank down into one of the plastic chairs. “So, where should I start?”

“How about at the part where Jordan doesn’t know she’s adopted? Who made that decision?”

“Tessa. She never told me why, but she was adamant. Even though she remained a part of Jordan’s life until the end, she was always Auntie Tessa. Even after she died, I kept my promise. Jordan can’t find out. I mean, how would you feel if you found out your whole life was a lie? That the mom raising you—” Elizabeth clenched her hands into fists. “I have to protect her. At any cost.”

Blake acknowledged her words but remained silent.

Elizabeth reached for his hand. His warmth permeated her skin and an unexplainable energy passed between them. “Please. If you have any feelings for your daughter, you won’t challenge me on this. I’ll find a way to tell her. Soon.”

Elizabeth was grateful Blake blinked, breaking the connection. He extracted his hand and rubbed it across his face. “I can’t believe I’m going along with this.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not doing it for you. Now tell me about Jordan.”

Inhaling sharply, Elizabeth breathed in the clean scent of soap underneath Blake’s aftershave. She turned away from his probing eyes and ran her fingers up and down her stethoscope. “Why don’t you tell me what you know and I’ll fill in the blanks.”

“You adopted Jordan at birth. She doesn’t know that she’s adopted. Her birth mother was my ex-wife and she has leukemia. For someone who’s been alive for almost ten years, that’s not a lot.”

Elizabeth nodded. There was so much to tell, but they only had minutes because her break was almost over. “Her birthday is May 8. She loves animals, cats especially, and wants to be a vet when she grows up.” Elizabeth’s voice hitched. Would Jordan grow up? “She’s normally a fun-loving, active girl, who plays soccer and volleyball.”

“If she needs a bone marrow transplant, I want to be tested to see if I’m compatible.”

His generosity moved her and time stood still as her gaze traveled over Blake’s face, settling on his crystal blue eyes.

Sometimes family members were a match. Some of the time.

“But—”

“Don’t try to talk me out of it. You got tested, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did, but—”

“I have to do something.” At the desperate look in his eyes, Elizabeth kept her thoughts to herself. She’d tested because she wasn’t biologically related to her daughter. He’d find out soon enough the odds were against him, no matter that she would pray for a positive match.

“Then, thanks. I appreciate it, because this time around, she needs a bone marrow transplant.”

Elizabeth bit down on her lip. “When she got leukemia the first time when she was eight, we got it into remission. It came back right after the new year before Tessa died. She’s not responding to chemo this time. She needs to be healthy to get a bone marrow transplant but she’s already had three infections. Each one has made her weaker, which is why I can’t tell her about you. It would be detrimental to her precarious health. I can’t lose her. I won’t—not without a fight.”

Elizabeth fought hard to keep her tears at bay—losing it in the hospital wasn’t an option. But a tear slipped from her eye, and once that one managed to break free, another followed. Within seconds, Blake was by her side, pulling her from her seat, gathering her in his arms.

“We’ll get through this, Elizabeth. We’ll find a match,” Blake murmured as he held her gently. His shirt bunched under her fingers as she freed the emotions that had built up since she’d first gotten Jordan’s diagnosis. It felt good, as if she were purging herself. Hope flared deep inside her as he continued to hold her until she had no more tears to cry.

She needed his optimism.

Lifting her head, she stared at him as his thumbs brushed the moisture from her cheeks. She pulled away from him, reaching for a napkin to wipe the remaining tears. “Thanks, Blake. I—don’t normally break down like that.”

“Don’t worry, your reputation is safe with me.”

“As yours is, too.” She gave him a hesitant smile. His actions spoke of a caring person, one who could have a positive influence in Jordan’s life. Someone who could help her get through each day with support and companionship.

Yet Elizabeth stood there afraid, knowing she couldn’t postpone the inevitable. Blake would meet his child, with or without her, as she’d just seen earlier, but it would be better on her terms. “I’ll introduce you to Jordan as an old friend. Just until I can tell her the truth, okay?”

“Fine. After all this time, a few more days aren’t going to matter. I don’t want anything to affect her health either.” Blake stepped away, which helped the confusion lingering in the recesses of her brain.

“Thanks, Blake.” Hope and wonderment filled her expression as she reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. “Okay, let’s go.”

As they walked down the hall toward Jordan’s room, Blake prepared himself. Most fathers had months to adjust to the idea of fatherhood, not days. Still, he couldn’t wait to take a healthy Jordan to the zoo or the bowling alley, or even one of those girly-girl places. Even if they did something as simple as a picnic in the park, he could do the things he’d missed out after his mother died, but with his own child.

“Here we are.” Outside room 403 again, Elizabeth turned to face him.

“Here we are,” Blake whispered. With his free hand, he pulled at his shirt collar. He stared into her eyes—light blue with flecks of gray. Yet in their depths, he saw a blaze of hope.

Fighting for breath, Blake faced the stark reality of his lonely existence, a reality that could change when he stepped inside the room. She gave him an encouraging smile. “I’ll go inside first. Please wait out here.”

Before he could stop her, she stepped over the threshold of Jordan’s room.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Elizabeth was amazed her voice didn’t tremble as she approached Jordan’s bed. Her daughter greeted her with a smile that lit Elizabeth’s world.

“Hi, Mom. What are you doing here? Are you done with your shift already?”

“Well, not yet, but Dr. Jim told me you were feeling better, so I just had to come and see for myself.” Sitting on the edge of her daughter’s bed, Elizabeth placed her hand on Jordan’s forehead, relieved to find it cool and dry.

“Cool. How long can you stay? The Boston Brothers will be right back on. They’re singing a new song today.”

“The Boston Brothers? Hmm. Have I heard of them?” Teasing Jordan, Elizabeth tucked a thin strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear.

“Mom, they’re only the hugest, cutest band on the planet. They’re coming to Phoenix, you know. I just saw the commercial.” Wistfulness filled Jordan’s eyes.

Elizabeth knew her daughter wanted to go to the concert but going to a place with thousands of screaming fans wouldn’t be good. A normal immune system could fight off all the bacteria and viruses, but a compromised one only invited them to set up shop, which would delay Jordan’s treatment even more.

“We’ll see, sweetheart. I can’t make any promises, okay?” Elizabeth watched the light fade from Jordan’s eyes and wished there was something she could do. Even if her daughter were healthy, tickets had probably sold out months ago. “Maybe next time.” Elizabeth squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Jordan, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. Is that okay?”

“He’s not going to poke me or stick me with needles, is he?” Jordan’s bottom lip trembled and tears filled her eyes.

Her child had been through so much, and they had so much more to get through to beat the leukemia. Elizabeth forced a smile.

“No. He just wants to say hi.”

“Sure. As long as he does it before Tyler, Justin and Shane start singing.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Elizabeth pushed herself from the bed and went back for Blake. “Okay, are you ready?”

When Blake nodded, she wove her arm through his and guided him into his daughter’s room. Silence between the three permeated the small area, broken only by the commercial running in the background. Beside her, Blake stiffened.

Inner turmoil made speaking difficult as her daughter eyed them quizzically. Despite the air-conditioning, the room grew warm. She’d love to take off her lab coat, but without it, she’d feel even more vulnerable and exposed. She inhaled sharply and spoke before she lost her nerve. “Jordan, I’d like you to meet…my friend, Blake Crawford.”

“Friend?” Jordan shifted in the bed, careful not to upset her IV. Her eyes widened as she stared at Blake and grinned. “Are you going to get married?”

“Married?” They both spoke at the same time.

Releasing his arm, Elizabeth inched away, her heart thumping furiously inside her chest. Jordan must have gotten the wrong impression. Tom had been the love of Elizabeth’s life, but he’d died almost six years ago when Jordan was four—her daughter didn’t remember him. She didn’t know who wore the more dazed expression, but she felt Blake’s almost immediate withdrawal.

Jordan’s smile added more tension inside the room. “I saw it on The Miriam and Teddy Show. When one of the parents introduces a friend, that means they’re getting married. Plus, I’ve been asking God for a new daddy. He is good.”

Everything had backfired. She couldn’t tell her daughter the truth about the adoption, or that her real father stood a few feet away from her. Not yet. Not until they beat the leukemia.

Elizabeth sat on the edge of Jordan’s bed and pushed what was left of her daughter’s long bangs from her eyes. Now she knew why Blake’s were so familiar. There was no mistaking that Jordan was his. She looked back over her shoulder, but he deftly avoided her gaze.

“In this case, Jordan, Blake is just an old friend. He’s come to see if he’s a bone marrow match, just like all my other friends who are being tested.”

Jordan crossed her arms, her lips curving down, disappointment on her face. “That’s all? Well, I don’t see why you can’t get married. I want you to be happy.”

“But I am happy.”

“Then why do you still cry when you see Dad’s picture? People only cry when they’re sad.”

“That’s not true. People also cry when they’re happy. Like at weddings and such.”

“My point exactly.”

When Jordan stuck out her bottom lip, Blake’s heart skipped a beat. Tessa used to do that, and it had driven him nuts because he couldn’t resist and he’d always given in. But Tessa was gone now, leaving him only with memories and a daughter who was definitely his. A daughter he was afraid to love and possibly lose. The image of another hospital bed rose in his mind’s eye.

Forcing his memories back, he let his gaze skim over the doctor again as she sat on Jordan’s bed, patting her daughter’s hand. In that moment, Dr. Randall disappeared, leaving behind a caring, warm and beautiful woman. It scared Blake worse than running into a burning building without his protective gear.

Elizabeth tweaked her daughter’s nose. “We can’t get married because we don’t love each other.”

Relief coursed through him when Elizabeth didn’t encourage this conversation. Yet he found himself wanting to know more about her. Not good. This is how it had started with Tessa when he’d literally run into her outside biology class. That had ended up with a date. And from there, a whirlwind courtship and marriage, which resulted in his daughter’s birth. The same daughter who wanted him to do it all over again.

“So why don’t you learn how to love each other?”

A strangled cough forced its way out of Blake’s lungs over the sound of some boy band. Music. A much-needed distraction right now. He’d eavesdropped on their conversation and knew they’d been discussing this group. “Isn’t that The Boston Boys playing?”

“The Boston Brothers,” she corrected. But his daughter had a one-track mind right now. “So why don’t you go out on dates, fall in love and then get married?”

“Because it doesn’t work that way.” Elizabeth rushed the words out as she rubbed her daughter’s hand again.

“Maybe God isn’t real after all.” Tears welled in Jordan’s eyes.

This conversation wasn’t going according to the plan. Blake forced himself to cross the room and stood on the opposite side of Elizabeth, trying to formulate some sort of response. Dread pounded in his heart as he stared down at Jordan and saw the look he’d worn too many times growing up reflected in her blue eyes that were so much like his own. She missed her dad. He’d lost his mom at a young age, at a time when he’d really needed her.

He wanted to tell Jordan the truth, but now that he’d met her, he realized Elizabeth was right. In this fragile state, his daughter probably couldn’t handle the news of the adoption.

But something monumental shifted inside him. Blake had been given a chance to come into his daughter’s life from this point forward, even if he couldn’t tell her the truth. He thrust his fears of blowing it aside as an old saying of his mother echoed in his head. He didn’t really believe in the words, but Elizabeth looked as if she needed some help.

“Sometimes God answers prayers in His own time, not yours.”

“Well, He’d still better hurry up.” Jordan coughed, and concern flashed across Elizabeth’s face. There was so much he didn’t know about his daughter’s leukemia, but he planned to find out.

His gaze met Elizabeth’s and he found himself lost in the depths of her blue eyes. Breaking his gaze away, Blake picked up his daughter’s other hand. Unfamiliar emotions bombarded him as he held her small, delicate and cold fingers. He tried to infuse a bit of warmth into them while he stared at the child he and Tessa had created.

“Your mom and I are just friends. Nothing more,” he said, trying to make things as clear as possible for her. And for himself.

Another frown formed on Jordan’s lips, but her attention wandered past Blake’s shoulder to the television on the wall. The Boston Brothers were finishing up their latest hit. The light gone from her eyes, Jordan pulled her hands away and resettled herself in her sheets. “Okay. I just thought it would be cool to be a bridesmaid.”

Blake’s startled gaze met Elizabeth’s stoic one. Her lips creased into a ghost of a smile, yet he sensed her dismay.

“Not only will you be a bridesmaid, sweetie, you’ll be a bride.”

The forced brightness in her voice told Blake that Elizabeth seemed to have lost hope, too. He fought the urge to wrap his arms around her because it would send the wrong message to Jordan.

Seconds ticked by, sliding toward an uncertain future. From somewhere deep in his brain, a distant memory surfaced and he almost felt the urge to pray. Too bad he didn’t believe in God. That had been his mom’s thing and look where it had gotten her. He shoved his thoughts back where they belonged. Today was what mattered.

And tomorrow.

And the day after that.

“Pinky promise?” Jordan opened an eye and stared at her mom.

“Pinky promise.” Elizabeth tucked her pinky through Jordan’s and tugged gently. “Now, Mommy’s got to get back downstairs before someone misses me. I’ll be back after my shift.”

Jordan’s gaze shifted back to Blake. A tiny bit of color infused her cheeks now and a shimmer of moisture touched her eyes. Blake wove his finger through hers as he’d seen Elizabeth do. “Pinky promise.”

He had no idea if he could keep that promise, but he knew he would die trying. He’d do anything to make Jordan happy.


Chapter Four

“I’m sorry, Blake.” Elizabeth finally spoke as the bell dinged, signaling the arrival of the elevator. She stared at the red triangle above the metal doors instead of the man shifting on his feet next to her.

“Sorry for what?”

“That Jordan mistook you as my fiancé. She’s been praying for a new daddy. I just never thought she’d be so blunt about it in front of a complete stranger.”

He stiffened at her words. “I’m not a complete stranger.”

Elizabeth knew he spoke the truth. But how, after all these years, could she admit to her daughter—the one she’d promised Tessa she’d love and protect as her own—that she’d gone along with the lie?

But Jordan was her daughter. She wasn’t her own flesh and blood, but that didn’t matter. It was Elizabeth who had been up doing the nightly feedings. Elizabeth who took care of Jordan’s boo-boos and watched her take her first step. Elizabeth who kissed her goodbye as she rode the bus her first day of school. And Elizabeth who consoled her when Tom passed away.

The only father Jordan had known, yet hardly remembered.

She had the power to make her daughter’s prayers come true but fear kept her in its grip. What if Jordan chose to go live with Blake when she found out the truth?

“You can’t keep her in the dark forever.”

She dragged air into her lungs. Words jumbled around inside her head, but no sound passed her lips.

“Look, contrary to what I said upstairs, I won’t take her away from you. I just said that to get your attention. You’re her mother. You always will be. And I will always be her dad. I’ll have to be a bit more patient, that’s all. Not one of my strong points.”

“Jordan’s, either.” Her lips cracked into a grimace. “Still, she’s been watching too much of The Miriam and Teddy Show. Too much TV in general.” The doors slid open and Connor Stalling’s parents hurried past them. From the concern on their faces, something must have happened with Connor’s kidney transplant. Her heart went out to them and she wished there was something else she could do besides pray for his recovery.

“It’s not like she has a choice.”

Elizabeth watched him push the first-floor button. The interior of the elevator grew smaller and she stepped away to increase the distance between them. “I suppose you’re right. She’s read almost every book I’ve brought her and those in the play area, and on better days, she goes and plays games, but still…”

“Maybe me and some of the guys will come in on our days off and keep her company.”

“That will help.” She paused for a few seconds. “And give you a real chance to get to know her.” As she glanced over and saw understanding in his eyes, her stomach lurched. She’d been on this elevator too many times for it to be from the quick descent. The doors slid open and they stepped out onto the tiled foyer. She hesitated, looking between Blake and the empty space behind him. The E.R. was to their right, the entrance to the hospital to their left. Work beckoned, but suddenly she wanted some more time with Blake.

Gently he cupped her chin and tilted her head so she had no choice but to look at him. His nearness brought a measure of comfort and something else she was afraid to identify. “She will get better, Elizabeth.”





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