Книга - Mission Creek Mother-To-Be

Mission Creek Mother-To-Be
Elizabeth Harbison


Melanie Tourbier desperately wanted a child, but she'd stopped looking for a husband who would love her for more than her money. When she started the sperm-donor process at the hospital, Dr.Jared Cross tried to talk her out of motherhood. The handsome doctor had reasons for wanting to deter Melanie, but the feisty heiress vowed to show him a thing or two! While she volunteered at the hospital, Melanie came in close contact with Jared. Suddenly, harsh words turned to passionate kisses, until the truth became evident. Would these stubborn lovers rise to the stork's ultimate challenge?







CLUB TIMES

For Members’ Eyes Only

Dr. Sweetheart and flying snail shells…

Nothing makes me giddier than a man who appreciates a good joke. And Dr. Jared Cross certainly made my heart go pitter-pat when he listened to me tell the one about the rabbi, the priest, the go-go dancer and the nun. I got a little lost in my story while staring at his wild green eyes and gleaming smile. I kept thinking that Dr. Cross needed a good woman—someone to ruffle up his hair and give him some roses to smell. And then I forgot the punch line.

Harvey Small wanted me to announce that he’s giving etiquette classes on Tuesday nights. I won’t mention that Harv slammed the door in my face last week. Then again, maybe he didn’t enjoy my exposé on country club managers and hair loss. Make sure to bring an extra plastic fork and your escargot equipment for each class. And please leave the kids at home. The class was reprimanded for beaning Ford Carson with empty snail shells.

Time to run! Gotta go catch famous heiress Melanie Tourbier, who’s just arrived and made a beeline for Dr. Cross’s office. Wonder what that could be about!

Make the Lone Star Country Club your private getaway. The Jacuzzi’s waiting….




About the Author







ELIZABETH HARBISON

began her love affair with Texas when her sister moved there in the early 1980s. It’s a place she’s revisited, both in fiction and in life, several times, and she always loves to return. Writing Mission Creek Mother-To-Be was a particular pleasure, since it incorporated some of Elizabeth’s favorite themes: a runaway heiress, babies, a tortured hero who needs love and a happy ending.




Mission Creek Mother-To-Be

Elizabeth Harbison







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


Welcome to the






Where Texas society reigns supreme—and appearances are everything.

She didn’t think she wanted a baby the old-fashioned way until she met a doctor who had just the right bedside manner!

Dr. Jared Cross: As a fertility counselor and child psychiatrist, the good doctor makes dreams come true for so many families. But it’s his work with one woman in particular that has him thinking of a future—and a family—of his very own.

Melanie Tourbier: She’s been surrounded by gold-digging men her entire life. Now, with her desire for a baby increasing by the minute, Melanie knows a fertility clinic is her best option. Except there’s a very special doctor in attendance who’s making her rethink her child’s paternity….

Fireworks in Mission Creek: An explosion outside the nursery of Mission Creek Memorial Hospital and the escape of a vengeful criminal lead to a dangerous hostage situation. Whose lives will be spared…and who will suffer to protect others?













To Greg Cunliffe The Godfather




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue




One


“…Branson Hines has escaped from authorities while being transferred from Mission Creek to a high-security prison in Lubbock. The thirty-two-year-old Hines is described as five feet ten inches tall, with dark eyes, dirty-blond hair and an unkempt goatee. Police spokesman Darryl Reilly warns that Hines is volatile and may be armed. Anyone who knows anything about his whereabouts is requested to call the Mission Creek Police hot line at—”

Melanie Tourbier reached out and clicked off the radio of her rented convertible. Then she shuddered and tried to take a deep cleansing breath as her yoga teacher in London had instructed. If things were going to work out the way she wanted them to here in Mission Creek, she needed to relax, to think positive thoughts. She did not need to panic about a dangerous escaped criminal who happened to be on the loose in the very small town she was staying in for the next few weeks. She’d be cautious, of course. But then, she was always cautious about strangers.

A lifetime’s worth of paparazzi and gold diggers had taught her that.

Her cell phone rang on the seat next to her and she punched the “on” button, glad for the distraction. She slipped the hands-free earpiece into her ear. She was nothing if not safety conscious. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

Melanie smiled at the voice of her friend Jeff. She could picture him in her mind, his wavy brown hair mussed, his thin body draped casually across the Chippendale chair he’d inherited from his wealthy grandfather. “You know where I am,” she said. “I’m in Texas.”

“Melanie Tourbier, you are out of your mind! Come back before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late. I’ve made up my mind and I’m going through with this.” She readjusted her grip on the steering wheel, symbolically reconfirming her resolution. “Face it, pal, you’re going to be an honorary uncle.”

“Much as I’d love that, I think you’re going about this the wrong way.”

“No, I’m not,” she said lightly. She was certain of that.

“But you’re only thirty!” Jeff argued. “You’ve got plenty of time to meet a man the traditional way, not in a test tube.”

“Oh, Jeff, don’t be silly, they don’t keep men in test tubes here,” she teased.

“They keep the essence of them there, and don’t change the subject. You’ve got plenty of time to go about this in the usual way and you know it.”

“I already tried that.”

“One bad husband doesn’t mean that there’s no one good out there.”

Melanie laughed. “Maybe not, but it certainly opened my eyes to some of the bad that’s out there.”

“Your relationship with Michael wasn’t all bad.”

“Bad enough.” Michael Mason had entered her life as a financial advisor and had left it as a financial liability. The divorce had cost her millions, but it was worth it to get rid of a man who had become more domineering and intimidating with every passing month. The only good thing, if you could call it good, that had come from the relationship was she’d learned early on about medical problems that would make it very difficult for her to conceive a child. One doctor had given her a one-in-a-hundred chance, though to her it felt like one in a million.

Which was a main reason she’d decided upon her current course of action.

“Why not just wait a couple of years?” Jeff implored. “Mr. Right might be just around the corner.”

“Even if he was, and I know he’s not, a couple of years won’t do it.” She tapped her foot on the brakes and glanced right and left as she rolled over some railroad tracks. “Think about it. Say, hypothetically, I meet a guy today. We’d have to date for at least a year before I could trust him enough to even consider sleeping with him—”

“A year?”

“At least. Remember what happened with Roberto?”

“Ah, yes, the pool boy.”

“He wasn’t a pool boy and you know it. He was the landscape artist. And a con artist,” she added miserably. Roberto Loren had been a huge mistake. A flirtation gone out of control. Melanie had met him when he’d come to redesign the grounds of her estate in Maui. They’d spent the summer flirting and dating, and eventually took a trip to his home in Majorca together, where she found out, the hard way, two crucial facts: first, that Roberto was not divorced as he’d said but still quite married with three young children; and second, that he’d set the whole thing up so he could have scandalous-looking pictures taken pool-side, with his children present, which he could sell to the tabloids.

His trashy book on the affair was due to hit the stores this week.

“Okay, I can see why you’d want to take some time to get to know and trust a man,” Jeff conceded. “Maybe do a background check. I’ll give you a year for that.”

“Right,” she said. “So I’m thirty-one right there. Then there’s the time spent trying to get pregnant. You know about my problems there. I already tried for two years with Michael, to no avail. And I was younger then. It could take three, four years now, or even more.”

“Or a month.”

Melanie scoffed. “Those odds are a million to one, as you well know. And with every year that passes, conception grows more difficult. The already minuscule window of opportunity gets smaller and smaller, and the risk of birth complications increases dramatically.” She’d memorized these arguments over the past year of repeating them to herself. “Now, where was I?”

“You were almost forty, I think.”

“Right.” There was a blue hospital sign ahead and Melanie slowed the car and stopped at a red light. “And that’s just the first child. What if I want more?” She felt the questioning gaze of the person in the car next to her and lowered her voice. “I’d have to start all over again with—”

“Stop!” Jeff cried into the receiver, just as the stoplight turned green.

Melanie pressed the accelerator, turned the car left onto Mission Creek Drive and kept her eyes open for Mission Creek Memorial Hospital. “I’ve made myself clear, then?”

“Crystal.” He sounded defeated, but she knew Jeff well enough to know he’d resurrect the subject countless times before it was truly too late. “So how is Texas?”

“Hot,” Melanie answered, tipping her face gratefully toward the summer sun. “Wonderfully hot and sunny. I may never leave.”

“That’s exactly what I was afraid of when you left London. You may have lived here for the past fifteen years or so, but you’re still an American at heart.”

“And on my passport,” Melanie added. She’d grown up in the United States, living first in San Francisco and then in Dallas from ages five to fourteen. After her parents’ death when she was just fifteen, she had lived primarily in London, first attending an exclusive girls boarding school on the orders of her parents’ executor, then, after a brief stint at the Cordon Bleu in Paris, returning to the University of London where she studied art history.

She’d married Michael Turner directly after graduating. They had divorced just under three years later. In the ensuing five years, Melanie had focused her energies on the many charitable organizations her parents had established and patronized, but her life still felt empty. Despite everything she had, all she truly wanted was a family. Her optimism about that was fading fast. It didn’t help that the only men she’d met since her divorce were either party boys or opportunists, after her money and fame.

So Melanie decided she was through with men, through with romance. She did, however, still want a family of her own. So she’d done some research and learned that the fertility clinic at Mission Creek Memorial Hospital was one of the best in the world, as well as one of the most discreet. She’d come in part because of the clinic’s reputation and in part because, after all these years, she was finally ready to come home. Texas still felt like home.

“So what are you doing right now?” Jeff wanted to know.

“Right now I’m in the car. I’m on my way to meet with a family planning counselor,” she said. “A Dr. Cross. Doesn’t he sound nice? As I understand it, I have a quick chat with him, assure him that I know what I’m doing, and then bingo, I’m off for the procedure. Or at least the first one.” She smiled at the thought, although she was well aware she might need multiple tries. Still she felt it was best to be optimistic. “Who knows? Next time you hear from me, I might be pregnant!” She hung up the phone and returned her full attention to the road before her, literally and metaphorically.

When she arrived at the hospital, she strode straight to the elevator, pressing the button with a flourish. “One step closer,” she said excitedly under her breath.

“I beg your pardon?”

Startled, she whirled to see a man standing there. He was tall and dark, with the most striking pale-green eyes she’d ever seen. “I—I was just talking to myself.”

“Oh. Sorry. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

She smiled. “I guess someone who’s talking to herself has to accept eavesdroppers as part of the deal and hope none of them is a psychiatrist.”

He gave her a strange smile, and she immediately thought her joke was idiotic. Now he probably thought she was, too.

“Just kidding,” she added, in case there was any doubt.

“That’s what I figured.”

His eyes were mesmerizing, like a hypnotist’s watch. She couldn’t look away.

He was looking at her, too, and he frowned slightly, as if trying to place her. “I’m sorry, but do we know each other?”

“No, no. I don’t think so. But you do look…familiar,” she finished lamely. He didn’t look familiar at all. This was not a face she would have forgotten.

The bell dinged behind her, and she heard the elevator doors shoosh open. She turned and walked into the mirrored elevator, conscious not so much of the thirty Melanies that seemed to step on with her, but the thirty tall, dark-haired, green-eyed strangers.

She reached out to press the eighth-floor button at the same time he did on the opposite side of the door. She glanced at him and said with a nervous little laugh, “Popular floor.”

He smiled. “Most of the offices are there. Patient rooms are on the other floors.”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “I’m not familiar with the building. This is my first time here.”

“Where are you headed?”

“To see Dr.—” She stopped, reflexively protecting her privacy. “A specialist.” She gave a dismissive smile and watched the numbers as the elevator climbed.

The man nodded politely and didn’t ask questions.

It occurred to her then that she wasn’t entirely sure which suite she was headed for. Glad for the chance to do something other than say inane things to a stranger, she opened her purse and began rooting for the appointment card they’d sent to her in England.

As the elevator lurched to a stop, she dropped her wallet at the man’s feet. She reached for it at the precise moment he did and they bumped heads just as the elevator doors opened.

“Sorry,” Melanie said, her embarrassment increasing with every moment.

He laughed and handed her the wallet, which had ended up in his hand like the big end of a wishbone. His fingertips brushed hers. “Nice bumping into you.” He gave an attractive grin.

She groaned at the pun as they both stepped off the elevator. Then she retrieved the appointment card from her wallet.

The stranger stopped, considered her for a moment, then asked, “Can I help you find an office at least?”

“That’s okay.” She pulled the card out and waved it triumphantly. “I’ve got it. But thanks.”

“All right. Good luck.” He nodded and waved and was off.

Melanie watched him go, vaguely hoping she might meet him again. Something about him was interesting, reassuring. She shrugged off the notion, and looked closely at Dr. Cross’s business card. Suite 818. Once the card was back in her bag, she followed the signs to her destination.

Five minutes later Melanie was sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Jared Cross’s office, trying to ignore the continuing radio coverage of Branson Hines’s escape. The announcer repeated warnings that citizens may be in danger, then returned to the Muzak program with an old Barry Manilow song.

Melanie tried to keep her thoughts on the fashion magazine she’d brought, but for some reason the Branson Hines story made her feel as if she, personally, were in danger. She’d only had premonitions a couple of times in her life; once before her parents died, and once when she was in college and she was sure she was going to fail a course. She’d been wrong about the latter, so she was probably wrong about this, too.

“Miss Tourbier?”

Melanie jumped, even though the voice was soft. “Yes?” she asked the petite red-haired secretary who had called her name.

“The doctor will see you now.” She gestured toward the door next to her desk.

Melanie gathered her things and gave a brief smile. “Thank you.”

“Say, did you know there’s a Tourbier champagne?” the secretary asked as Melanie walked past. “My husband and I had some just last night for our anniversary.”

“Well, happy anniversary,” Melanie said with a smile. Yes, she knew about Tourbier champagne. Her father had started the vineyard in Reims, France, thirty-three years ago.

“Thanks!” the woman answered with a shake of her flame-red curls. “Two years and counting.”

“That’s terrific.”

She passed the young woman and entered Dr. Cross’s office.

He was standing with his back to her, facing a wide shelf that was overflowing with books. She couldn’t tell much about him from behind except that he was very tall, and his hair was as black as a raven’s, or at least it seemed so in contrast to the generic white doctor coat he wore. His hair color and his physique suggested that he was much younger than she had expected.

“Dr. Cross?”

He turned quickly. “I’m sorry,” he said, flashing an apologetic smile.

It was the man from the elevator.

Her heart dropped into her stomach. “It’s you,” she heard herself say. “I had no idea…”

He looked equally surprised to see her. “Oh, hello again.”

“Hello.”

“What a coincidence.”

She swallowed. “Yes.” Things like this happened a lot in her life. She really shouldn’t continue to be so surprised by them.

He glanced at something on his desk and said, “I gather you must be Melanie Tourbier?”

“Yes, I am.”

He looked at her for a moment, as cool as a cucumber. “Please,” he said, waving a hand at the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

She did, wondering if he was right now recalling her talking to herself before.

That would not bode well for her.

But if he was thinking that, he didn’t let on. He sat and took out a folder. “So you are Miss Tourbier,” he said, taking a few sheets of paper out of the folder.

“Please, call me Melanie.” A flirty thrill ran down her spine, and she quickly reminded herself that this was not the time or the place or the man for those kinds of thoughts.

He looked at her over the papers. “Okay, Melanie. And you can call me Jared.”

“All right, Jared.” Still, maybe this was going to go well, after all.

He frowned and checked his notes, shuffling through the papers. “And you’re here for fertility counseling, is that correct? Artificial insemination?”

“Yes, I am.”

He looked at her again, then hesitated noticeably before setting the papers down.

She thought she saw a piece of newspaper in the pile and wondered what it was.

“I haven’t had a lot of time to familiarize myself with your case,” he said. “I understand this has all happened rather quickly.”

She smiled. “Why wait around?”

“Hmm.” He didn’t return her smile, but instead made a quick note on the top paper and returned his gaze to her. “Why don’t you begin by telling me why you want to undergo this procedure at this time.”

Melanie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Something told her this wasn’t going to go as smoothly as she’d expected. She hadn’t planned on having to explain herself. “Because I want to start a family.”

“Alone?”

“I’m not married, if that’s what you mean.” She cleared her throat gently.

“No…significant other?”

“No, this is something I’ll be going about alone.”

He nodded, studying her with those disconcertingly green eyes. “Why have you decided on this particular route at the age of—” he glanced at the papers “—just thirty?”

She straightened her back. All feelings of flirtiness had left her. Now she was firmly on the defense. “Forgive me, but I’m not sure that’s any of your concern. My reasons are private.”

“Whatever you tell me will be kept in confidence, I assure you.”

“That’s not the point.”

He remained imperturbable. “What is the point, then?”

“The point,” she said, with more patience than she felt, “is that this is a very personal decision, made for very personal reasons. I came here for a medical procedure, not to justify myself. But please rest assured that I gave it a great deal of serious thought.”

“That’s what I’m here to help you with,” he said, with more patience than she suspected he felt. “To make sure the decision you’ve reached is the right one for everyone involved.”

“But I don’t need help with that.” Her patience slipped a notch. “As I said, I’ve already made the decision.”

“Miss Tourbier,” Dr. Cross said, then leaned back in his chair and scrutinized her like Columbus surveying the land ahead and wondering why the West Indies didn’t look right, “the Mission Creek Clinic requires that every patient have counseling before taking this very serious step. It’s vitally important that we are all in agreement that this is an appropriate action for you to take.”

He made it sound like a legal issue instead of one of the heart. “I assure you, I’m capable of making decisions for myself. And the reason I’m here is for a medical procedure, not a psychological one.”

He leaned forward, piercing her with a gaze that suddenly wasn’t attractive so much as intimidating. “With all due respect, Miss Tourbier, it is not you that I am primarily concerned with. I agree that you are old enough to take care of yourself. My concern is for the child you wish to have.”

Melanie felt as if she’d been slapped. He may not have put it as kindly as he could have, but he was right. Of course this was about the welfare of the child. She’d come across as a selfish, spoiled brat, talking about herself and what she wanted. In all her years of being alone, she’d had only herself to worry about, but she knew once the child was real, it would be second nature for her to put him or her above all else.

“Dr. Cross,” she said, wishing she had an olive branch to extend, “I’m afraid we’ve gotten off to a bad start here. Not only do I agree that the needs of the child come first, but I appreciate the fact that you feel so strongly about it. I feel the same way.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, absolutely. This is not a decision I made lightly. I had to ask myself a lot of questions first, about whether I was ready to take on such a large responsibility. Which I am,” she hastened to add. “And about whether it was fair to bring a baby into the world without a father.”

He nodded, looking more interested than he had when she’d begun. “And what was your answer to that last question?”

She swallowed. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought that up. If she hadn’t, maybe he wouldn’t have thought to do it, either. “Well, I guess my answer is that I think any child is lucky to have one adoring parent. Some don’t have any.” She felt a pang of loss before she even realized she was thinking of her own parents. It was like that sometimes, her reaction to the loss so automatic that it came before any thought.

“I agree.” Dr. Cross’s voice was quiet. “There is nothing worse for a child than to feel unwanted.”

“Believe me, this baby will feel wanted and loved. He or she will have more loving attention than most kids. I have…means,” she understated. “I’m fortunate in that I won’t have to go to work and put my baby into someone else’s care. I’ll be there for him twenty-four hours a day.” She hesitated. “I believe that’s a tremendous advantage for him. Or her.”

A moment passed before he spoke again. “Miss Tourbier, I’m not going to play games. I am aware of your financial advantages. One of my concerns, though, is that a baby might seem to you to be a fun thing to have around, something to cuddle and play with, when in fact a baby is only a baby for a short period of time. Having a child is a lifetime commitment.”

“Dr. Cross, I’m not a teenager looking for something to comfort adolescent angst. I’m a grown woman who has contemplated this and made a careful decision.”

“And I want to help make sure it’s the right one.”

“But I don’t need help with that, since, as I’ve said, I’ve already made the decision.” Half an hour ago she’d hoped she’d meet this man again. Now he was turning into the biggest obstacle to her plan. Be careful what you wish for, she thought.

“Please understand, here at the clinic we like this to be a cooperative process.”

“Well, I’m trying to cooperate, but I feel like I’m up against some stiff opposition and I’m not sure why.”

He kept his gaze steady on her. “What you perceive as opposition is simply caution.”

“And what is it about me that makes you feel so cautious?”

“You are a young woman seeking to raise a child alone.”

“Why is that so shocking?”

“Not shocking,” he said in a measured tone. “But only about five percent of our cases are single mothers.”

“And do all of them undergo such scrutiny?”

“Every one of them.”

“It’s a wonder you’ve stayed in business, then.”

“It’s one of the reasons why business is thriving here. Our standards are high for both our patients and—” he paused “—our donors.”

Melanie’s face felt very hot. She knew they were picky about their donors, of course. That was why she’d chosen this particular clinic. She didn’t want sperm from some guy who was trying to make a quick five bucks to support his drinking or drug habit. She wanted the father of her baby to be someone who was carefully screened.

“All right, let’s cut to the chase,” Melanie said. “What are you worried about in my case?”

“It’s not easy to be a single mother. I’m afraid the reality of parenting might be a bit different from what you expect. Although you’re not the first single woman to want to conceive, you are young and clearly used to a lifestyle that allows you unusual freedom.”

“What’s your point?”

“What happens if it all turns out to be much harder, and maybe a lot less enjoyable, than you expect?”

“I’m sure at times it will be,” she said steadily. “And at those times I will love my child just the same.” She chose her words carefully. “Dr. Cross, life is often not what we expect. I have learned that several times over. But I would never, ever take on a responsibility like this if I wasn’t ready to give it one hundred percent.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” His voice softened and he scribbled something in her folder. “Honestly, I am. However, I’m sure you understand that we need to explore this further. It’s our standard operating procedure.”

She glanced at the desk. Did he have some sort of checklist he had to go through? “Okay,” she said, resigned. “Explore away. We’ll do it your way. I want you to feel as comfortable with this as I do.”

He gave her the look a teacher might give a mischievous child. “Now you’re suddenly feeling cooperative?”

“I’m suddenly feeling that I have no choice.”

He shrugged and gave her a quick smile. “That will do, I guess. So tell me, do you have any experience with children?”

She felt her cheeks grow warm. “Not exactly.”

“Hmm.” He leaned his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers before his face. “What do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

“Does a person have to have experience with children in order to have one?” she countered.

“Not necessarily—”

“Good. Because I’m perfectly willing to learn on the job.”

He kept his eyes on her for a moment, then made another note. She tried to see what he was writing but couldn’t.

“Am I getting points against me for that?” she asked. “What are you writing?”

He looked at her with exaggerated patience. “I’m just making a few notes to myself.”

“Care to share them?”

He looked at his pad, then set it down. “Okay. You want me to be blunt, I’ll be blunt. I don’t think you know what you’re getting into. It may not be what you expect, and if it’s not what you expect, your disappointment may become evident to the child. The best way to fix a mistake is not to make it in the first place.”

“Dr. Cross.” Melanie used her most authoritative voice. “While I do appreciate your candor, it doesn’t sound to me as if you’re trying to help me make this decision at all. It sounds as if you’re trying to talk me out of it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Does it?”

She’d had enough therapy after her parents’ deaths to recognize the basic psychological trick of making her reveal some hidden truth by encouraging her to talk. In this case, presumably, the truth he had in mind was her secret wish to be talked out of having a baby.

“Yes, it does,” she said. “I’m willing to discuss this with you and reassure you and the clinic that I’m a good candidate, but it seems to me that in order for this to work, you must be impartial. To insure that I’m committed to the child’s welfare, not to waste valuable time—yours and mine—trying to talk me out of my decision.”

“Are you afraid I will talk you out of it?”

“Not at all.” She tried to maintain her calm. “Look, as you are aware, the timing of this treatment relies on…” She searched for a delicate way to put it. “…my monthly cycle. I’m afraid that we will waste so much time driving down this dead-end road that we’ll miss this month’s, er, window of opportunity, that the entire process will be delayed. You’ve got my chart there, I assume. So you know I might need many attempts and that, even then, the chances of it working are slim. I don’t want to wait. Surely you can understand that.”

He looked at the chart, and his expression, when he looked back at her, was more compassionate. “I do sympathize with your concern. But surely you understand that I can’t rush things simply because a patient may have trouble conceiving.”

“If it’s possible at all,” she said, her voice wavering slightly with emotion. Stay calm, she told herself. Breathe.

“If it’s possible at all,” he agreed.

She took a moment to collect herself, then asked, “All right, what do I have to do to convince you?”

“Slow down a little. Truthfully, Miss Tourbier, I’m less concerned with your complete lack of experience with children than I am with your all-fired determination to do this so quickly despite the inexperience.”

He didn’t think she could do it. He wasn’t even going to give her a chance. He was going to take his little notes and then recommend to the clinic that she was a bad candidate for the treatment. Her dreams for a child, or children, would be blown out like a match, on this one man’s whim.

“Please, Dr. Cross,” she said, her heart beginning to ache. “What can I do to prove to you that I’m ready for this?”

He tapped his pen on the paper a couple of times, then let go of it.

Melanie watched it clatter on his desk.

“I have a suggestion,” he said.

Hope surged in her. He hadn’t written her off yet.

Not that he had the right to simply write her off.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Actually, it’s more of a challenge. Or—” he lowered his chin and looked at her seriously “—you might even call it a dare.”




Two


“A dare?” Melanie repeated, frowning. “Okay, I’m listening. What is it?” She looked like a gambler, waiting to see where the ball would settle on the roulette wheel.

Jared Cross sensed that this was a woman who was used to taking chances, who perhaps even relished them.

His mind strayed to the tabloid newspaper article he had in his file. His secretary had showed it to him, thinking it was cool that such a major celebrity was coming to the clinic. Jared hadn’t shared her enthusiasm, particularly once he’d read the article. Granted, it was a tabloid and he took everything he read with a grain of salt, but several facts were unrefuted: one, that Miss Tourbier’s lover was married, and two, that they’d behaved indiscreetly in front of the man’s children.

Of course, it had been a couple of years ago, according to the article, which described a book that was coming out detailing the affair. Perhaps she’d learned something from it. Perhaps she was more responsible now, at least about what she did or did not do in front of children.

That was the kind of thing he needed to determine.

He would be fair, despite her obvious and unfounded fear that he was against her.

He leaned toward her, elbows on his desk. This plan, he knew, would benefit everyone involved. “I challenge you to volunteer for, say, two weeks in the hospital day-care center.”

“Two weeks!”

He nodded.

“With ill children?” Her bravado was gone. She looked doubtful, and suddenly more vulnerable than he would have imagined possible. “Do you think I’m qualified to help out with them? I’d hate to say the wrong thing and make things worse.” She gave a half smile. “I have a tendency to talk before I think. Sometimes it gets me into trouble.”

He couldn’t help but smile back. He felt as if this was the first thing she’d said to him since coming in that wasn’t a previously devised closing argument. “No kidding.”

She gave him a withering look.

“Okay, okay. Here’s the deal. The day care is for the use of staff members, and sometimes the children or siblings of patients. There’s nothing particularly challenging about it. Like all kids, they just need care and kindness and attention.”

She still looked reluctant. “I’m sure I could handle it, but how would the parents feel about having me there? I’m sure they didn’t leave their kids with the idea that just anyone could come in and work with them.”

“I’m not asking just anyone,” Jared said, glad that she’d raised the issue. It showed she was thinking the right way. “I’m asking you. But if you don’t think you’re up to it—”

“Of course I’m up to it.” She bristled at the challenge, as he knew she would. “In fact, I think it sounds like fun.”

“Good.”

“But I know what you’re up to,” she added, jabbing a finger toward him in the air. “This isn’t a little dare, it’s a test. So I want to know your criteria for passing.”

“Look, Miss Tourbier, I’m not playing games. You can’t simply connect the dots and win a child.”

“Win a child?” she repeated incredulously. “Dr. Cross, even if you believe that’s what I’m here to do, I would imagine you could find a less crass way to express your feelings. You’re not only disparaging me, you’re demeaning the child I hope to have, and I will not stand for that. Besides—” she threw her arms up “—you’re the one devising this silly scheme to prove myself.”

“Miss Tourbier, I’m trying to help you, to give you a little taste of motherhood while there’s still time for you to decide it’s not what you want at this time.” He saw her objection coming and raised a hand. “If there’s even the possibility that you might decide that. I know you say there isn’t. If that’s so, then this is just a little practice for the real thing. No harm, no foul.”

She looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Tell me, do you make every prospective mother jump through these kinds of hoops? Is this how the hospital gets volunteers?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Every case is different. I don’t make this particular suggestion to everyone, although everyone does undergo a waiting period with counseling to make sure they’re making the right decision. Not every clinic does that. But not every clinic cares the way Mission Creek does. I suspect it’s our reputation for being cautious that brought you here.”

“Among other things,” she agreed. “But I still feel you have a prejudice against me particularly.”

“I’m not punishing you by asking you to work with the kids. I’m trying to help you, to allow you a taste of the real, everyday process of caring for a child. If it arms you with a little experience for your future child, I’ve done you a favor. If it gives you pause and causes you to wait on your plan, then I’ve done you and the child a favor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jared knew too many stories just like theirs.

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

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

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

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



She was late.

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

How many points was this going to count against her?

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

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

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

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

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

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

It just wasn’t as interesting.

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

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

The first person she saw was Dr. Jared Cross.

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

“Oh, sorry!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jared cleared his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think it’s best.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“In the meantime, if you need to get in touch with me, you can call through the hospital operator. They’ll know how to find me.”

She wondered if he was hoping she’d call him in half an hour and tell him she’d changed her mind about everything. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. “I’ll be fine. So will the children. I promise that at the end of the day there will have been no fatalities.”

“That’s reassuring.”

She watched him nod to Em and head for the door. She might have reaffirmed her decision that he was just as cold as ice, if it hadn’t been for what happened right before he opened the door.

A small child, a boy with carrot-red hair, who seemed to move faster and more steadily than someone his size should, ran up and clung to Jared’s legs.

“Nooo!” the child cried, clearly trying to stop Jared from leaving.

Melanie expected Jared to brush him off in a pleasant but firm manner. Instead he reached down and swooped the child into the air.

“It’s a bird…it’s a plane…it’s Superkid!”

The child screamed with laughter.

Jared laughed, too, and Melanie’s breath caught in her chest. The laugh completely transformed his face. He had dimples for one thing, not childlike little dents but manly smile lines. She hadn’t noticed them before, although he’d smiled politely once or twice yesterday. But not real smiles like this. His eyes crinkled at the corners, making him look as kind as a favorite grandfather.

In fact, for just one crazy moment, Melanie could see him as a grandfather many years down the road. In her mind’s eye, she saw him, a little older, a little gray at the temples, reaching down in the same motion for a little boy with dark hair and green eyes….

“Okay, sport, I’ve gotta go,” Jared said, giving the child a final toss-and-catch before placing him gently on the floor.

“Nooo!” the little boy cried again, clutching at Jared’s pant leg. “Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go! Play ba!”

Jared knelt in front of the child and took his tiny hands in his. “How about if I come back and play ball after lunch?”

The boy chewed his lip, as if considering. “Lunch?”

“After lunch,” Jared said. “If you’re a good boy till then, we’ll play a little ball before I go back to work.”

The child’s face brightened. “I be good!”

Jared laughed. “Then I’ll see you after lunch.”

Em walked up behind Melanie and watched the scene with her. “That’s little Johnny Souffel. Last month he turned three and still hadn’t said a word. Dr. Cross has been treating him for just over four weeks and the difference, as you can see, is remarkable.”

Melanie was surprised. Granted, she didn’t know much about children, but she wouldn’t have believed that a month ago Johnny didn’t talk. “So Dr. Cross does something here other than family planning?” she asked Em.

“Oh, my, yes. Dr. Cross is the finest child psychiatrist in all of Texas. Maybe even in the whole United States.”

Melanie turned to Em. “Child psychiatrist? Are you serious?”

“Yes, indeed.”

She wanted to ask why on earth he was wasting his time and talent trying to talk people out of having children, but she didn’t know Em well enough for that. “So he just volunteers at the clinic or something?”

“Oh, yes, he’s done it for years. He’s a fierce child-welfare advocate. He’s done a lot of good work at the clinic, and arranged more than a few very successful adoptions.” Em clucked her tongue like a proud mother hen. “The children are so lucky to have him.”

Melanie watched little Johnny go over to an older boy and hold a block out to him. “You play?” he asked, and the older child took the block and set it on the pile he’d already arranged into a wall.

Then Johnny went over and knocked the whole thing down.

“You had a different impression of Dr. Cross, didn’t you?” Em asked gently.

Melanie began to object, but the director held up a hand and said, “A lot of people get the wrong impression when they first meet him.”

Melanie smiled. “I guess it’s fair to say that I didn’t think he was the kindly type when I first met him.”

Em chuckled. “I don’t think I’m telling tales out of school when I say that Dr. Cross has a more natural rapport with children than adults. But he’s a good man. I like him very much.”

Although Melanie couldn’t go so far as to agree with everything Em said, she nodded. “It certainly looks as if the children like him.”

“There’s no better gauge of character than that,” Em said, then let out an alarmed exclamation and called, “Allison, Paul, we do not pour water on each other’s heads!” She gave Melanie a quick, exasperated smile. “Excuse me. Duty calls. Why don’t you get to know the children?”

But how? Melanie wanted to ask, but the director had already gone to tend to the crisis. She’d simply approach one of the kids and get started that way. It wasn’t that big a deal. She’d chatted with dignitaries from all over the world; she’d been to state dinners at the White House and tea at Buckingham Palace.

Children couldn’t be that much more intimidating.

A nurse walked in holding a small toddler. She approached Melanie and shifted the child from one hip to the other. “Hi, I’m Linda Darrow,” she said. “Do you know where Em is?”

Melanie started to point to where Em had just been with Allison and Paul, but she was nowhere to be seen. “She was just here. I’m sure she’ll be back in a moment.”

Linda looked at her watch. “Oh, rats, I’m already late for my shift.”

“Is there something I could help you with?” Melanie asked, hoping she sounded more confident than she was.

The woman frowned. “Do you work here?”

“No. Well, yes, but only temporarily. You see, I—”

“Wait a minute. You’re Melanie Tourbier!” Linda gasped. She clapped a hand to her cheek. “Oh my gosh, I thought that was just a rumor!”

Melanie felt her face go hot. “You thought what was a rumor?”

“That you were here at the hospital.” The nurse shook her head. “I thought you looked familiar…You don’t look like your pictures.”

“Pictures can be manipulated. Believe me.”

“I know it,” Linda said. “My husband was at the airport last month and got a picture taken that looks just like he’s standing there with the President. Of course, it’s just a cutout.”

Melanie laughed.

“What on earth are you doing working in the nursery?” Linda asked, then lowered her voice. “Are you trying to escape the paparazzi?”

That was a fortunate by-product of being in South Texas. So far, the paparazzi didn’t know she was here. With any luck, they’d concentrate on more interesting people and not even look. Although she was modest about how interesting she was to the public, Melanie was realistic enough to know that, thanks to Roberto’s book, her being here to get artificially inseminated was newsworthy to the tabloids.

“Actually, Linda,” she said in a confidential tone, “I’m here for a medical procedure, but I don’t really want people to know I’m here, if I can avoid it.”

Linda made the sign of locking her lips and throwing away the key. “They won’t hear it from me. In fact, I’ll squelch the rumors if I can.”

Melanie smiled. “Thanks. Now, since I am working here for the moment, what can I do for you?”

“I need to leave Dan here for a couple of hours this morning.” Again she shifted her grip on the squirming toddler. “My mother normally takes him but she has a dental appointment. Em knows I have to spring this on her every once in a while, but usually I’m able to give her at least a little warning.”

“No problem,” Melanie said, hoping she was right and that it wasn’t going to be a problem for Em. “You just leave little Dan with me and I’ll see to it that he gets the very best care.”

“Thanks.” Linda shuffled the warm bundle to Melanie’s arms without hesitation. “My mom will be here by noon. Em knows her.” She glanced at her watch again and made a face. “Gotta run. It was nice meeting you, and don’t worry, mum’s the word!”

She rushed off, leaving Melanie standing there with the toddler in her arms, staring at her. He didn’t seem afraid, merely curious. His little face, just a few inches from hers, was so cute she nearly laughed.

“Hi there,” she said to him.

He blinked his large blue eyes, studying her silently.

“You want to play?” she asked.

He still didn’t answer. She wondered if he understood her.

“How about if we read a book?”

At this, his eyes lit up and he smiled. “Book,” he repeated, enunciating the k. “Book.”

Melanie felt nothing short of triumphant. “Yes, book!” They were communicating. It was a great feeling. “Let’s find a book.”

She carried him over to a shelf of picture books and leaned over to pick one. “Oh, Goodnight Moon,” she said, in a tone of reverence. She took the familiar favorite off the shelf and looked at the picture on the front. She hadn’t seen it in at least twenty years and probably longer, but she knew every tiny detail right down to the number of stars out the window.

One of the clearest memories she had of her mother was of her reading Goodnight Moon to her when she was small. “And goodnight to the old lady whispering ‘hush’…”

She carried the book and the child to a large comfortable rocking chair and sat down to read. The boy settled in against her, his blond head warm against her chest.

Melanie smiled down at the top of his head, then opened the book. “‘In the great green room,”’ she started, then stopped for a moment, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

The boy turned in her lap and touched her chin.

She reached up and twined the little fingers in hers. “‘There was a telephone and a red balloon and a picture of the cow jumping over the moon.”’

The boy pointed a pudgy little finger and moved it across the next page to the picture of the little mouse. Melanie laughed with sheer delight, remembering how she used to do that same thing herself. Find the mouse in every color picture. She supposed it was something all parents passed on to their children.

He moved his finger to the picture of the window. “Star,” he said, pointing at the little white specks.

“That’s right, stars.”

She read the rest of the book, stopping to linger over the pictures on every page. It gave her a funny feeling to see them again. In a way, it made her melancholy, remembering the warmth of her childhood, and then the sudden cold when she’d lost her parents. But it also lit within her an optimism that she could feel that warmth again, with her own child. The fire would be rekindled and she would keep it stoked this time.

She finished the book and closed it. “Should we read another one?” she asked Dan, setting the book aside.

“Book,” he said, but he stayed where he was, leaning comfortably against her. She loved the feeling so much she didn’t want to move.

He tipped his head back and pointed to her ear. “Star,” he said.

“Ear,” she corrected.

Dan was insistent. “Star.” He touched her diamond stud earring.

“Oh, I see. It looks like a star, yes.”

“Star,” he said again, nodding and pushing his finger against it.

“Hey, Dan,” a familiar voice said next to them. “Melanie. How’s it going?”

Melanie looked up, surprised to see Jared Cross again. Was he checking up on her already? He’d only been gone for about twenty minutes. “Fine,” she said in a clipped voice.

“Good.”

“Did you come back hoping I’d given up?” she asked, certain that he’d done exactly that.

“Star,” Dan said again.

“That’s right, honey, star,” she said, hoping Jared would notice the instant rapport she had with the child, the ease with which she dealt with him. “Well?” she asked Jared in a low tone.

He was looking at her strangely. Or so she thought. “What are you doing there, Dan?” he asked.

“He’s looking at my earring,” Melanie told him. “We just read a book and talked about the stars in it and now he’s telling me that my earring looks like a star.” She looked at Jared steadily. “Everything is under control.”

He frowned. “You’re not wearing an earring.”

“What do you mean I’m not wearing an earring? Yes, I am. Right here.” She lifted her hand to her ear and felt for it.

It was gone.

She looked at Dan, just as he raised his pinched finger and thumb to his mouth. The diamond caught the light for an instant and flashed.

“Oh, my God, Dan, no,” she said, panicked.

Unfortunately, the child also panicked at the tone of her voice and he jerked his hand into his mouth.

Melanie saw it just as it went in. “No!”

The child began to cry.

The blood drained into Melanie’s toes. “Dan, honey.” She tried to sound calm but she could clearly hear the mounting hysteria in her voice. “Let me have that back. Open your mouth, honey.”

The baby stopped wailing and poked his lip out, still sniffling softly.

“What’s going on?” Jared asked, leaning down. “What’s he got?”

“My earring,” she said a little shrilly. “A diamond earring.”

“He’s got your earring in his mouth?” Jared bent down to try to get it out.

She poked her finger into the child’s mouth and felt around. Nothing. “No,” she said, pulling a shaking hand back and looking at Jared in terror. “Not anymore. He swallowed it.”




Three


“He swallowed it?” Jared picked the child up from Melanie’s lap. He was still calm, but there was an undercurrent in his voice.

She nodded, kneading her hands in front of her. “One-carat diamond stud. Oh, my God, what am I going to do?”

He gave her an impatient glance before turning his attention back to the child. “I’m sure your insurance will cover it.”

His words didn’t compute. “Insurance?”

He set the child on top of a table and told him to open wide. “Yes,” he said into Dan’s mouth, poking around with his finger. “You can get yourself a new— What did you say it was? One carat diamond?”

Melanie understood his implication. “I’m not worried about the diamond,” she said, drawing herself up. “I’m worried about the b-o-y.”

Dan looked at her with wide blue eyes. Oh, no, could he spell? She didn’t want to alarm him any more than necessary.

“The earring wasn’t huge,” she continued in a very soothing tone, with half an eye toward Dan, “but it wasn’t exactly a strawberry seed, either.” She took the other earring out of her ear and showed it to Jared. “It was this size. Can this hurt him?”

Jared took the earring and examined it. “It’s a short post, that’s good.”

She nodded eagerly. “I have them made that way because I don’t like getting poked when I sleep.”

He gave her a puzzled look.

“By the post, I mean,” she explained. “They’re sharp.”

“I see.”

Silence hung between them.

“I swallowed an ice cube once,” Melanie said, trying to reassure herself more than to inform him. “It was a lot bigger than that and it went down. Of course, I was older and it melted eventually, but still… Maybe this will go right through him, right?”

“Hopefully.”

Em came into the room from the kitchen area, with two children with wet hair. “Is something wrong?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

“It’s my fault,” Melanie said quickly. It was all she could do not to throw herself into Em’s arms, sobbing. “Dan was fiddling with my earring and I startled him and he—he swallowed it!”

“Your earring? How big was it?”

Melanie held the other one out to Em in a hand that trembled. “It was like this.”

“Oh, thank goodness it wasn’t a big one.”

Melanie was somewhat relieved. “It seems big when you think of it going through that little digestive system.”

To Melanie’s surprise, Em patted her arm kindly. “These things happen. Quite a lot around here, as a matter of fact. What do you think, Dr. Cross?” There was concern in her eyes, but at least she didn’t look alarmed.

“He needs to go upstairs for an X ray,” Jared said.

“An X ray?” Melanie’s knees felt weak. Oh, no. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

Em put a hand on her shoulder. “Now, now. It’s just a formality, to make sure it’s not stuck someplace it shouldn’t be. We always have to have an X ray, then we just let nature take its course.”

“I’ll call up there and tell them he’s coming,” Jared said briskly, going to the small office in the next room.

Melanie nodded and took the child back into her arms. Immediately he leaned his head against her chest. A sob caught in her throat, and she laid her cheek against his feathery-soft blond curls. “I’m sorry, baby. You feel okay?”

He didn’t answer, but she didn’t expect him to.

“Why don’t you take him to the X-ray department on the seventh floor now?” Em suggested. “I can hold down the fort here.”

“Do you really trust me to do that?” Melanie asked, worried that Em had forgotten who’d caused all this trouble in the first place.

“Why, of course.” Em looked surprised.

“Thank you.” Melanie’s words came out in a rush of gratitude. “I won’t let you down.”

“Melanie, dear, it was a mistake. Please don’t beat yourself up about it. Just let them check Dan out, then call Linda on the hospital phone and let her know what happened.”

Melanie nodded. “I will, absolutely.”

When Jared came back he said, “They’re waiting. I’ll take you up there. I have to pick up a chart from the seventh floor anyway.” He turned to Em. “Is Lily Palmer ready? I came down to get her for an appointment.”

“She certainly is.” Em called a child of about six over to join them.

Melanie was glad that Em and Jared were not so worried about Dan that they couldn’t think about anything else. That had to be a good sign.

“Dr. Cross!” the little girl squealed when she saw him. “Are we going to talk about my baby brother again?”

He smiled at her. “If you like.”

They all began walking toward the door.

“Whatever.” The child flipped her hair. “I’m not so sad about him coming anymore. Mommy said she’d hire me to help her when he’s here, but I don’t have to change smelly old diapers!”

“Sounds like you got a good deal,” he said, and the child laughed and ran ahead.

“Is she a patient of yours?” Melanie asked, holding Dan close as they rounded the corner to the elevators.

“A temporary one,” he answered. “Fortunately her problems were not very serious. Her mom’s a doctor here and due to give birth next month. Lily’s been having a little trouble with jealousy.”

“Oh, she’ll probably be thrilled when the baby comes along,” Melanie said. “Who wouldn’t be?”

Jared shot her a look, but smiled. “I’m sure she will. And your point is taken.”

Melanie feigned innocence. “My point?”

“Press the button,” Jared said to Lily, who proceeded to press it about ten times in rapid succession. “Yes, your point,” he said to Melanie. “How are you enjoying working with the kids?”

“Piece of cake,” she said.

He looked from her to Dan and back again, clearly trying not to smile. “That so?” The elevator arrived and they stepped on.

Her face grew warm. “Okay, maybe it’s not quite as easy as I thought it would be. But you have to admit working in day care is very different from having a child of one’s own.”

“We’ll see.”

We’ll see? Her heart lurched. Did that mean he was going to give her the okay? She knew better than to ask. Instead she just nodded. “I feel as confident as I ever did. Maybe even more.”

He raised an eyebrow. “More?”

“Sure. Look, already today I’ve learned that you can feed babies rocks and metal and they can, hopefully, just poop it out.”

Jared watched the digital numbers change over the door as the elevator went up. Although he didn’t exactly smile, she recognized a lightening of his expression. “That should come in handy if you should ever go broke.”

There it was again. Was he hinting to her that he was going to approve her as an artificial insemination candidate?

The doors opened and they stepped out.

“Luckily my parents left me with enough to provide for my children,” she said. “I don’t think we’ll have to resort to eating the elements, but it’s good to know that we can.”

To her amazement, he laughed. “You’re resourceful, I’ll give you that.” They stopped. “X-ray is down that hall and to the left. You can’t miss it. They’re expecting you.”

“Thanks,” Melanie said, thanking him as much for easing up on her as for giving her directions.

“Sure. Come on, Lily,” he said. “We’re going to pick something up then go to my office.” He reached his hand out to the little girl, and she took it. Something in the gesture made Melanie’s heart ache. She watched them walk away for a moment before following his directions to the X-ray department.

Everything went smoothly, although the waiting took longer and was more nerve-racking than Melanie had anticipated. When they finally took Dan in, they allowed Melanie to come with him. Part of her felt she didn’t have the right to be there, that she should have called his mother for this, but Em had specifically told her to call Linda afterward, when everything was all right. And Em had been confident that everything would be all right, so there was probably no sense in getting Linda worried for nothing.

In the X-ray room, Dan fussed and complained at first, but he held still long enough for them to take the picture. Afterward, when Melanie took him back in her arms, he was happy again.

The technician took the film out of the machine and clipped it onto the light board to take a look. “There it is,” he said, pointing to a small dark shadow in Dan’s stomach. “Yum.”

“Is he going to be all right?” Melanie asked fretfully.

“Looks like it,” the attending doctor said. “He didn’t suffer from any gagging or choking on its way down, so it didn’t get lodged in his windpipe. The rest is pretty easy. With any luck it should come out painlessly.”

Melanie sighed in relief.

“Is he going to be here in the hospital for the rest of the day?” the doctor asked.

“No, his grandmother is supposed to pick him up in about half an hour.”

“See if you can keep him in the day care instead. You’re going to have to watch for the earring to come out. If it hasn’t by the end of the day, we might do another X ray.”

Melanie swallowed. “All right. How will I know when it’s come out?”

The doctor smiled. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to inspect the contents of his diaper.”

She tried not to appear appalled by the notion, and nodded mutely.

Next she had to call Linda Darrow and tell her what happened. She screwed up her courage and went to the white house phone on the wall. The minutes seemed to tick by extra slowly while she waited for the operator to page Linda.

Finally Linda picked up the line and, with great trepidation, Melanie told her what had happened.

When she finished, Linda sighed heavily. “I can’t believe this.”

“I know,” Melanie said miserably. “I’m just so sorry about it.”

“How much is it going to cost?”

“Whatever it is, obviously I’ll cover it,” Melanie said, glad she could at least do that much.

There was a pause, then Linda asked. “I’m sorry, what do you mean you’ll cover it?”

“The medical costs, time you take off from work, anything.”

“I meant the diamond,” Linda said. “How much will it cost me to replace it for you?”

Melanie couldn’t believe her ears. “You’re not worried about Dan?”

“You just told me he was all right, didn’t you?” Linda asked. “We see this kind of thing, and much worse, all the time around here. Last week we had a girl in the ER who had swallowed one of those little lightbulbs. That was harrowing.”

Melanie gasped. “Was she all right?”

“Oh, sure. They got it out easy. Now about this earring, I don’t think I can buy a new one outright, but maybe if the jeweler has some kind of installment plan—”

“Please, Linda, no. I don’t care about that at all. The important thing is that Dan’s okay.” Knowing Linda’s objection was coming, she added, “I really have to insist.”

“I appreciate that, Miss Tourbier—”

“Melanie, please.”

“Melanie, then. Now I’d better call Mom and tell her not to come, then I’ll come down to see Dan in the day care as soon as I can get away.”

“I’ll hold on to him until you get there.”

Linda clicked her tongue against her teeth. “You’re just the sweetest thing. I hope you stay in Mission Creek for a good long time.”

I hope it doesn’t take a good long time for Jared Cross to decide I can be a mother, Melanie thought, but she said, “I hope so, too.”

By the time she got back to the day-care center, the lights were dimmed and most of the children were sleeping on mats on the floor. Em hurried over to Melanie and Dan and said in a hushed voice, “It’s nap time. Every day after lunch.” She gave Melanie a sympathetic smile. “Speaking of which, you must be starving. Why don’t you give Dan to me and I’ll rock him to sleep while you go grab a bite.”

The last thing Melanie was concerned with right now was food. “May I rock him myself?” she asked, reluctant to give up the warm little boy who seemed to like being in her arms as much as she liked having him there. “Please?”

Em raised her eyebrows and gestured toward the chair. “Be my guest. If you’re sure.”

Melanie gave the boy a squeeze and said, “I’m sure.” She carried him over to the chair and sat down, settling his head in the crook of her arm. He wriggled impatiently at first, but she shushed him and quietly began singing lullabies. Within five minutes he was asleep.

And she was more positive than ever that she wanted a child of her own. No matter what it took.

Unfortunately, it looked like it would take a lot.



Jared sat by himself in the doctors lounge and ate the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he’d brought. This particular lunch was a habit he’d had for a long time.

He took a sip of the milk he’d picked up in the cafeteria and looked at the small color TV that someone had left on in the corner.

There was some kind of news conference going on outside the Stop n’ Save. A painfully thin, pale woman was talking. There were several microphones in front of her, and she was looking into the camera. Her face might have been called pixie-ish if it didn’t look so hard. The caption under her read, Deena Hines, Wife of Escaped Convict Branson Hines.

“Branson,” she said, her voice as thin and reedy as her body. “Please, please, come home, darlin’. I’m worried about you because I don’t know where you are or how you’re doin’. Please get in touch with me—” she looked slyly left and right “—or with the police.” Jared thought he saw the smallest smirk curl the left side of her mouth. “Please, darlin’, I want you back home. It’ll be better for you if you turn yourself in, rather than letting them find you, because they are looking.” At this, she broke down into strangely tearless sobs, and covered her face with her bony hands.





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