Bachelor Father (15 page)

Not waiting for an answer, Brett pushed
himself out of the low chair. “They can’t seem to get Jake’s
temperature down. The doctor wanted to check his vaccination record
and possible allergies to medicines.” Brett’s throat clogged and
couldn’t finish. He walked over to the bed.

“I gave the medical records to the nurse at
the desk,” Molly answered.

“Good.” He turned from Jake. “What time is
it?”

“About nine o’clock.”

“That late? I must have dozed off. What took
you so long to get here?” He’d left a message at her office about
three. She should have realized the urgency, but maybe he was
placing too much importance on his and Jake’s place in Molly’s
life. Maybe, Jake was just another case to her. He looked from
Molly to Jake and back again.

“I didn’t get your message at work. I left
early to stop by the condo, check on it, and water my plants.
Remember, the Reynolds are on vacation.” Guilt flickered across her
face. “When you didn’t call after Jake’s doctor’s appointment this
morning, I thought everything must be all right,” she said
defensively.

He
had
said he’d call. She must have
driven all the way home and back. Molly hated driving in the snow
and her car didn’t handle that well in winter weather.

“Why didn’t you stay at the condo and call?
Tina said she’d wait at the house until supper time in case you
called.”

“I wanted to get home to Jake, to see how he
was,” she said simply. “The nurse said he might have meningitis.”
Her voice shook. “Has the doctor been in?

“The pediatric resident was here about five
and seemed concerned about Jake’s fever and dehydration. She had
the nurse give him something different for the fever. I tried to
get Jake to eat a little soup and drink the juice the aide brought
in with his supper tray. But he kept shaking his head no and saying
‘Pooh.’”

“He wanted his cup,” she said softly, feeling
as helpless as Jake looked. “I could have brought it with
me.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. You didn’t
know. Besides, Jake’s my responsibility, not yours.”

Brett stepped from the bedside. Was that
consolation or reproach that flickered in Molly’s eyes? Didn’t
matter. He should have seen how sick Jake was and taken him to the
doctor’s sooner.

He collapsed in the chair and covered his face
with his hands. “Molly, it was awful.” His thoughts turned to words
before he could stop them.

Molly moved beside him and timidly placed her
hand on his shoulder. He dropped his hands. She slid her hand to
the nape of his neck and massaged his tense muscles.

He looked up. Her eyes brimmed with concern. A
part of Brett hoped some of it was for him.

“After you left this morning, I had to wake
Jake up. I had to actually wake him up,” he repeated. “You know
Jake’s always the first one up. I don’t think he’s let me sleep
past six since the day he arrived.”

“Um, hmmm.” Molly continued her
ministrations.

Brett leaned his head back and rubbed against
her hand, the tension ebbing with each touch of her fingers. “Jake
didn’t want to eat and didn’t want to play. All he wanted was for
me to hold him. He was so warm and limp. I felt so useless. I
couldn’t do anything for him.”

“You did all you could.” she consoled him.
“Much as parents would like to, they can’t protect their kids from
everything.”

Being referred to as a parent gave Brett a
start. Brett thought of himself as Jake’s uncle, not a
parent.

“I didn’t do anything. We sat and I watched
the clock until it was time for Jake’s appointment with Dr. Blake.
The doctor examined him, and sent us right to the
hospital.

“But the nurse said the emergency room
physician admitted Jake, not Dr. Blake.”

“Dr. Blake doesn’t have hospital privileges at
St. Peter’s. He uses Albany Medical Center. I . . . I couldn’t take
him to Albany Med. Mom, Kate . . . both of them were at Albany
Med.”

He could see from Molly’s face that she
understood why he couldn’t have taken Jake to Albany Med. Brett
stood and paced again. “They took x-rays and blood tests. Jake
didn’t fuss or cry.” Brett bowed his head. “That scared me,” he
admitted.

“You were with him,” Molly said. “He felt
safe.”

Brett stopped his pacing by Jake’s bedside.
Jake’s trust in him was awesome. “If his fever doesn’t break, they
want to do a spinal tap tomorrow.”

Molly joined him. “I slipped my hand under the
tent and felt his cheek when I got here. He didn’t feel very warm.
Maybe his fever has broken.”

Brett and Molly watched over Jake in silence
until a creak of the door and a flood of light interrupted. A nurse
entered. “I need to check his vitals,” the nurse said. She took
Jake’s temperature and blood pressure and adjusted the
I.V.

“Unca?” Jake awoke and looked to Brett for
reassurance.

“I’m right here, Buddy.”

“Boo?”

“Me, too, Jake. I’m here.”

Jake returned his thumb to his mouth and
closed his eyes.

“How’s his temperature?” Brett asked the
nurse.

“Much better,” she answered. “It’s only
running about ninety-nine.”

“Then, he’ll be all right?” Molly
prompted.

“The pediatric resident is on her way up to
make late rounds,” the nurse answered. “You can talk with her. Did
you plan to spend the night with Jake? I’ll have housekeeping send
up a couple of cots.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Brett and Molly spoke
simultaneously.

“You decide and let me know,” the nurse said
diplomatically before slipping out the door.

Brett stepped closer to the bed. “I’m not
leaving Jake here all alone.”

“He won’t be alone.”

“You know what I mean. What if he wakes up and
I’m not here?” Molly seriously expected him to leave Jake?
Unbelievable. And she was the one who was supposed to be the child
expert.

“The nurse can call you if he
wakes.”

Brett paced the room. He didn’t need this.
What he could use right now was Molly’s support. He stopped and
confronted Molly. “It took you, what, an hour to drive back here in
the snow? Jake could be hysterical in that amount of
time.”

Molly placed her hand on his arm. “You’re
tired.”

He pulled away. Sure, he was tired. He’d
hardly slept in forty-eight hours, but he had to think of Jake.
“You go ahead, leave.” He waved her away.

Molly didn’t move. “We could go to the condo.
It’s only a couple of minutes away. There’s an extra bed in the
spare room. You’d get a lot more rest there than on a little cot
here at the hospital.”

“I’m not—”

The door opened again and the pediatric
resident walked in. “Hi, I’m Dr. Chou. The nurse said you were
waiting to talk with me.”

Brett nodded.

The doctor lifted Jake’s medical chart from
the holder at the foot of the bed. “From the last set of vitals,
I’m tentatively ruling out meningitis. Our little patient seems on
the mend. I’ll take a quick listen to his lungs, and then answer
any questions you have.” Looking at Jake fast asleep, she said,
“You must be anxious to get home and get some rest
yourselves.”

First Molly, now the doctor. Was he being
overprotective? Nah. He had a right be concerned, to stay if he
wanted. His Mom would have been here for him.

Brett moved to the bedside with the doctor,
and Molly followed, stepping close to him to see around the doctor.
Brett read the obvious concern on her face and placed his hand over
hers on the bed, taking comfort himself from her
nearness.

When doctor placed the stethoscope on his
chest, Jake squirmed but didn’t wake up. “Sounds good,” she said,
smiling at Brett and Molly. If his progress continues, I expect
he’ll be able to go home tomorrow.”

“That soon?” Brett asked.

“I don’t see why not,” the doctor replied.
“Kids are pretty resilient.”

“He won’t have a relapse or anything once I
get him home?” Brett asked the resident.

“I assure you, we won’t send him home with you
unless he’s well enough. And the nurses will give you instructions
for his care until you take him for a follow-up appointment with
your doctor.”

“Okay.” Brett shifted his weight to other foot
and squeezed Molly’s hand. “Thank you doctor.”

After the doctor left, Molly slid her hand
away from Brett’s. “Now are you willing to leave? You’re going to
need some rest to keep up with Jake tomorrow if he’s
released.”

“You think?” Brett said with a half smile. “I
guess if Jake’s even half his usual self, I’ll need to be awake.
We’ll go to the condo.”

He gave the condo phone number to the nurse at
the desk and asked her to call if Jake’s condition changed at all
for the worse. “You want me to drive?” he asked Molly.

“No, I’ll take my car, so I’ll have it for
work tomorrow.”

“Yeah, work.” His up mood dampened. He’d
thought she might stay home and help him with Jake. Actually, her
going to work was better. He needed to be able to care for Jake
himself. Molly wouldn’t be with them forever.

Molly unlocked the condo door and led the way
in. Strange, she and Brett and Jake had been living together as a
family for six weeks, but tonight, here in her condo, Brett seemed
like a guest, even a date.

She shrugged out of her coat and turned to
take his jacket. Brett’s a half-lidded, almost sensual, stare
stopped her. She fingered her cross. Whatever was she thinking? The
man was half-dead on his feet. His look had to be sheer
exhaustion.

Molly reached for his jacket. “You probably
want to get right to sleep.” A lingering smell of the outdoors and
Brett’s Stetson cologne clung to his coat, giving her the urge to
bury her nose in the satin lining.” Lord, she must be on the verge
of exhaustion herself to be coming up with these thoughts. “I’ll
hang up our coats and get you some sheets and blankets from the
linen closet.”

He pushed a strand of hair back from his face.
“I’m too wired to go to sleep yet.”

He wasn’t the only one who was wired. The air
fairly cracked with electricity. “I could put the late news on, or
make some tea or cocoa,” she said.

Maybe something mundane like drinking tea
would defuse the static energy that hung heavy between them,
threatening to zap the tenuous control Molly had on her emotions.
Tonight had been one of the most frightening experiences of her
life. It must have been even worse for Brett.

His intense gaze followed her
movements. She shut the closet door, feeling completely exposed
under his studied watch. Molly swallowed.
Get your imagination under control, girl
.

“How about a beer?” she asked. “I’ll check the
refrigerator. I mean, I don’t think the Reynolds will mind. I’ll
replace it.” She started toward the kitchen.

“I’m fine,” Brett said.

“It’s no trouble,” she reassured him, hating
the little squeak that found its way into her voice. “You’ve had a
rough day.”

She went into the kitchen, glad for the door
separating them. Molly filled the tea kettle and took a beer from
the refrigerator. She tried to twist off the top, but succeed only
in scraping her finger. She never could twist the tops off
twist-off bottles. Tears of frustration filled her eyes as she
rummaged noisily through the silverware drawer for a bottle
opener.

“Molly?”

She turned.

Brett held him arms open to her. “Come here,”
he said in a low voice.

She hesitated, blinking back her
tears.

“I didn’t get my evening kiss tonight,” he
cajoled.

The smile that had started across Molly’s face
at the mention of Jake daily ritual halted when she caught the
glint in Brett’s eye. Her insides turned to mush. For her own good,
she should get as far away from him as possible. But her feet
seemed glued to the floor.

“Come here,” he repeated more urgently, his
request ending with a whispered, “I need you.”

Had he said he needed her or had she imagined
it? She moved into his arms, feeling some of his tension relaxing
as he lowered his lips to hers. This was no ritual kiss. Brett
crushed her to him and kissed her fiercely, almost
desperately.

A brief thought that she should stop him
penetrated the pleasureful haze. She pushed gently at his
shoulders. He held her more tightly, as if he’d never let her go.
Molly gave into her need to be needed.

He lifted his lips from hers and whispered, “I
. . . I don’t want to be alone tonight.” His voice was husky with a
need that transcended his attraction to Molly.

“I’ll be here, just down the hall,” she said.
The soft light backlit his figure forming a warm aura that seemed
to flow from him to her.

“Molly.” His voice cracked, halting the
current flowing between them. They stood motionless, fingers
entwined. She squeezed his fingers. “Molly,” he repeated. “Maybe
you should get those blankets for me to make up the
couch.