The Doctor’s Secret Baby Read online

  Her appointment was for nine o’clock and they were ten minutes early. The shady courtyard was cool this time of day, relatively speaking since it was July. Desert landscaping dominated the center with rocks and plants in shades of purple, yellow, orange and pink.

  Emily stopped and pointed to the last door on the right. “Here’s the office.”

  “Okay.”

  “There’s no guarantee that I’ll be taken in right on time.”

  “I’m a doctor. I get it,” Cal said wryly.

  “You work in the E.R. Rebecca Hamilton is a busy ob-gyn. That’s like comparing apples and kumquats.” She shifted Annie in her arms. “There’s a fifty-fifty chance that we’re going to have to wait. Her appointments always get juggled because of deliveries. Babies have a complete disregard for schedules and office hours. They arrive on their own time regardless of who it inconveniences.”

  “What time was Annie born?” he asked quietly. Black-framed sunglasses hid his eyes and their expression, which was probably just as well.

  Em rubbed a hand down her daughter’s back. “A respectable seven o’clock in the morning.”

  “Good for her.” He started to walk past her. “Okay. I get it. We’ll probably have to wait.”

  “Hold it. You might want some helpful hints.”

  “Such as?”

  “All indications are that Annie’s going to have some serious misgivings when I give her to you. Your assignment, if you choose to accept it, is to keep her safe and as happy as possible.” She tightened her hold on the little girl in her arms. “If she tries to get down, put her down. Let her do what she wants as long as she doesn’t bother anyone or hurt herself. Try to distract her with a toy. I packed her favorites, a sippy cup and crackers. Don’t worry about the mess in the waiting room.”

  “Mess?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  He nodded. “Got it.”

  “Can you change a diaper?”

  “Did you pack a schematic?”

  “Very funny.” She couldn’t help smiling. His sense of humor was the first thing that attracted her. Now was no exception. “A simple yes or no will suffice.”

  “I think I can figure it out.”

  “If nothing makes her happy and she won’t stop crying, remove her from the waiting room. She loves being outside and hopefully that will distract her. If not, go to the reception desk and Grace will come to the exam room and get me.”

  “Grace?”

  “Martinson. She’s the doctor’s receptionist, office manager and all around assistant.”

  “Got it.” He shifted the strap of the diaper bag more securely on his broad shoulder.

  Emily knew for a fact that the thing was heavy yet he didn’t seem to feel the weight. But Annie’s bulk was starting to make her back hurt. If only she could pass the child to Cal, but that would start a meltdown, not a smart move until it was absolutely necessary.

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath and started down the cement pathway toward the office. “Let’s do this.”

  “This” was the last thing she wanted to do, but the lump hadn’t gone away. Inside, the waiting room was air-conditioned and there was only one woman waiting, meaning either the doctor was on time or there’d been a delivery and earlier patients rescheduled. Either way it was a good thing for them.

  Emily signed the patient sheet with her name and arrival time, then found a bench seat by the back office door. She settled Annie on her lap and Cal sat beside her.

  The older woman in the chair next to them smiled. “Your little girl is adorable.”

  Although she didn’t feel like small talk, Em could never ignore an Annie compliment. “Thank you. I think so, too.”

  “She looks just like her daddy,” the woman said.

  Cal nodded. “I think so, too.”

  “How old is she?”

  He looked at Em who answered, “Almost a year.”

  The woman nodded. “You make a lovely family.”

  If they were giving off a family vibe, it was Academy Award–caliber performances. This was the first outing for the three of them, and not for happy reasons. Fortunately no response was required because the door opened and Grace Martinson stood there. Emily had gotten to know her pretty well during her prenatal visits.

  The green-eyed redhead in blue scrubs smiled. “Hi, Em. I’ll take you back in a minute. Mrs. Wilson?”

  The older woman stood and followed her into the back office. Em’s stomach did the nervous dance with a healthy dose of fear driving it. All her research said that 80 percent of breast lumps turned out to be benign, but what if she was in the 20 percent range? She squeezed Annie to her until the little girl squirmed in protest. What would happen to this child if something happened to her? Her own mother wouldn’t win any awards, but at least she’d been around. Sort of.

  She glanced at Cal who’d slid his sunglasses to the top of his head and looked ultra-cool and devastatingly handsome. He’d have to take care of their child on his own. In a few minutes he was going to get a crash course demonstrating exactly what that meant. Before she could give him last-minute pointers, the door opened again and Grace was there.

  “You’re up, Emily.”

  “Okay.” She stood with Annie in her arms and kissed her daughter’s cheek. Then she looked at Cal. “You’re up, too.”

  He nodded and held out his arms. She handed the baby over and steeled herself for the cry of protest that came instantly.

  “I’ll get her back as quick as I can,” Grace said to him, then shut the door.

  Em followed her to the first exam room where she was directed to disrobe from the waist up and put on a cloth gown. Left alone, she did as instructed, all the while hoping her baby’s cries would diminish and stop, but no such luck. She heard the front door open and close. He was following orders and taking Annie outside, which meant juice and favorite crackers had no effect on her daughter’s aversion to the complete stranger who was her father.

  Em felt like the worst mother on the planet, and the slime at the bottom of a toxic pond. This was all her fault. It wouldn’t be this traumatic if Annie knew Cal and that was something she’d regret to her dying day, which hopefully wouldn’t be too soon.

  It made her angry that she was faced with a situation she couldn’t control and had to rely on Cal. Even more, she hated how glad she was that he was there, but none of this was fair to Annie. She had no idea what was going on and was just scared because her mommy had thrust her into the arms of a man she didn’t know from a rock. No wonder she was crying her eyes out. That, at least, was something that could be fixed.

  She opened the door to the exam room, held her gown together with one hand at her chest and flagged Grace down in the hallway. “Annie’s really upset.”

  “I heard,” Grace said ruefully.

  “Can she come in the exam room?”

  “It will be hard for the doctor to check you out if she’s clinging to you.”

  “As long as she can see me, I think it would calm her down,” Em said.

  “Who’s the hunk?” Grace asked.

  “Dr. Cal Westen.”

  “The pediatric E.R. guy at Mercy Medical? He’s a friend?”

  Not so much, Em thought. “You could say that.”

  Grace looked puzzled. “What about patient privacy?”

  “I want him to know everything. Just in case.”

  “Okay.” Grace nodded. “I’ll go get him.”

  Em nodded then sat on the exam table, legs dangling over the end. Moments later she heard Annie crying and it got louder just before Cal brought her into the room.

  He handed the baby to her. “Sorry.”

  That made two of them. “Not your fault,” she said, cuddling the little girl to her. “Can I have her cup?”

  He dug the juice out of the diaper bag and Annie grabbed it, relaxing in her arms when she started to suck.

  “Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

  “No.” She didn’t wan
t to be alone, and Annie didn’t count.

  The crying jag had worn her out and a bit of gentle rocking coaxed her into sleep. “Can you take her? It will be fine. Once she goes off, it takes a lot to wake her.”

  He nodded and set the diaper bag on the chair, then stood in front of her and held out his arms. True to form, Annie slept through the transfer and Em’s arms were grateful. Moments later the doctor walked in. A brown-eyed blonde, Rebecca Hamilton was in her late twenties, young for a doctor. She’d skipped several grades in school and that had given her a jump on her career and a successful, growing practice.

  “Hi, Emily,” she said, settling her wire-rimmed glasses more securely on her freckle-splashed nose. She noticed Cal and the baby. “Sorry. I didn’t know Annie was asleep.”

  “This is Cal Westen,” Emily said. “He’s a doctor.”

  Rebecca nodded. “I know you by reputation, Doctor, and I mean that in a good way.”

  “Same here,” he said.

  Rebecca looked at her. “So you brought along moral support?”

  Em nodded. “Kind of. He’s Annie’s father.”

  “I see.” There was no indication that Rebecca was surprised, but then she’d probably heard it all. “So, let’s get down to business.”

  She did the usual listen with the stethoscope and took a pulse and blood pressure. Then she stood between Emily and Cal as she parted the gown and did an exam of the left breast. Frowning, she said, “There it is.”

  Em was hoping this had all been her imagination and took a deep breath. “Is it cancer?”

  “Don’t go there,” Rebecca advised. “We have absolutely no reason to believe that. More information is required to determine exactly what it is. Could be a cyst, which is no big deal. Or a noncancerous mass such as a fibroadenoma, a benign tumor. Or an intraductal papilloma.”

  “Translation?” Em said, pulling the gown closed over her breasts.

  “That’s a small, wartlike growth in a milk duct. Since you nursed Annie, that would be my guess. But we need to do some tests.”

  “Mammogram?” Cal asked.

  Rebecca glanced over her shoulder, then looked back at Em. “Because you’re so young, I’d like to start with an ultrasound. It’s noninvasive, painless and radiation free. It should determine if the lump is a mass or just a harmless, fluid-filled cyst. If that’s the case, testing is over and there’s nothing to fear. Although we might want to aspirate the contents.”

  “What if it’s not?” Cal asked.

  “Then we get a diagnostic mammogram. It’s a digital, electronic image,” she explained to Em, because he already knew this stuff. “The pictures can be computer manipulated, making them cleaner, clearer and easier to read. We focus on the area of concern, compressing tissue and magnifying images so that we can get a much more detailed look.”

  “Will that tell us what it is?” Em asked.

  “We’ll know more about what it isn’t,” Rebecca explained. “If it’s not a cyst, we’ll need a biopsy.”

  “Surgery?” Em’s heart started to hammer and she met Cal’s eyes over the doctor’s shoulder.

  “No.” Rebecca touched her hand. “An ultrasound-guided core needle biopsy. It’s an in-office procedure to extract a small sampling of cells, which we’ll test. I want to stress that there’s absolutely no reason for you to believe the worst. If you’d like, I can recommend a breast specialist. Or I’d be happy to consult with one and coordinate your care.”

  Emily glanced at Cal, still holding a peacefully sleeping Annie. Emotion swelled inside her and pressed against her heart. “What do you think?”

  “Dr. Hamilton is right. It’s one step at a time. If you’re comfortable, it’s clear that she’s got the situation under control.”

  “Here is good.”

  The doctor nodded. “Then for now I’ll coordinate everything. I’m going to have Grace set up an appointment at the breast imaging center at Mercy Medical. That’s step one. And you’re not to worry.”

  “Right.”

  Rebecca put a reassuring arm around her shoulders and said, “It’s going to be okay.”

  When they were alone, Cal let out a breath. He looked like he’d worked a double shift in the E.R. during cold and flu season. “How are you?”

  “Probably better than you.”

  He glanced at the little girl cradled in his arms. “It’s been a rough morning.”

  “There’s the understatement of the century.” She met his gaze. “I want to go home.”

  He nodded. “I’ll take her in the waiting room so you can get dressed.”

  “Thanks, Cal.”

  And she didn’t mean for leaving her alone. He’d hung in there with Annie. And with her. Running interference with the medical stuff. Advice. A sounding board. She could have done it on her own, but she was incredibly glad that hadn’t been necessary. Far too glad.

  Too glad meant she had lingering feelings rattling around inside her. When she’d made the decision to tell him about his daughter, she’d been so sure that wasn’t possible. Now she knew she was wrong. Leftover feelings were like embers after a forest fire, which could burst into flame with very little encouragement.

  Considering he didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her, that made it a one-way street. Just like the last time and the scars on her heart were a continuing reminder of how that had turned out.

  Cal now knew that Emily wasn’t lying, at least not about the lump in her breast. He’d thought about little else since leaving the doctor’s office yesterday and still didn’t know what to think or how to feel. That was the only reason he could come up with for stopping by her apartment without calling.

  After parking across the street, he knocked on Em’s door and waited. When there was no answer, he tried again and the door beside hers opened.

  Redheaded Lucy Gates stood there and somewhere behind her there was a child crying. “What do you want?”

  Great. Miss Congeniality. “I stopped by to see Emily. And Annie.”

  “Em’s not home.” Distrust rolled off her in waves.

  “I see. Do you have any idea when she’ll be back?”

  She glanced over her shoulder and called out, “Patty? Did Em say how long she’ll be?” The answer was muffled and she said, “Soon.”

  “Patty. Your roommate.”

  “Right.” Her hostile look didn’t change, so it was a good guess that there were no points for remembering that. The child was still making unhappy noises.

  “Who’s crying?” he asked.

  Lucy’s expression asked why he cared, but she answered, “Henry.”

  “Who’s Henry?”

  “Patty’s little boy. He’s sick,” she volunteered.

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  She shrugged. “Probably a cold.”

  “Fever?” he asked.

  “Yeah. A little bit.”

  “Do you want me to take a look at him?” Cal asked.

  “I thought you didn’t do that stuff. It’s not an emergency—” She glanced over her shoulder when someone behind her spoke. “You’re a doctor, right? A pediatrician?”

  “That’s what my diploma says. Does Henry have a pediatrician?”

  “Not a regular one. We take the kids to a clinic.” Again, there was a muffled voice before she opened the door wider. “But maybe it wouldn’t hurt for you to have a look at him.”

  Cal nodded and stepped inside on the beige carpet. From what he could see, this apartment was a carbon copy of Emily’s floor plan—living room, small kitchen with dinette and a hall with two bedrooms on each side of it. On one wall sat a re-covered sofa, not a professional job, but still a charming floral print. The coffee table looked like a do-it-yourself dark-stained plywood number, but complemented the rest of the decor. The walls were filled with photos of children and kid-friendly prints. Other than toys scattered around, the place was spotless.

  A blond girl about Lucy’s age stepped forward with a whimpering, sniffling, towhea
ded toddler in her arms. “I’m Patty. And this is Henry.”

  “Hi.”

  “Lucy said you’re a doctor.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Since you’re here…Would it be okay for you to take a quick look at him?” she asked, worry widening her big blue eyes. She should be at cheerleader practice and fretting about finals, not sharing an apartment with another teen mother.

  “Sure.”

  Another baby, Oscar, he remembered, was on a quilt beside the sofa with stuffed animals spread out around him. The little guy looked clean and well fed, what with the chubby arms and legs sticking out of his denim overalls.

  Cal walked over and said to the under-the-weather boy in her arms, “Hey, buddy. You’re not feeling so good?”

  The kid’s nasal discharge was clear, a positive indicator of no infection. Cal palpated his neck for enlarged lymph nodes or swelling and didn’t find anything abnormal. “He feels warm.”

  “I just took his temp,” Patty said. “It’s a hundred.”

  Cal nodded. “That’s not too bad. Do you have a flashlight?”

  Lucy looked more puzzled than hostile now. “What for?”

  “I’d like to look in his throat and I can see what’s going on better with a light.”

  “We have one in the kitchen,” Patty said, walking into the room and opening a drawer.

  “Set him on the counter for me, and let’s see if we can get him to open wide,” he directed. “How old is he?”

  “Eighteen months.”

  Patty did as directed and when Cal came close, Henry started to cry, which meant opening his mouth. Attaboy. He aimed the light and saw some mild redness, which was probably a result of postnasal drip. “I don’t have an otoscope—”

  “A what?” Lucy asked.

  “That’s the thing the doctor at the clinic uses to check their ears,” Patty answered.

  “Right,” Cal said. “Has he been pulling at them?”

  “No.” Patty held on to Henry’s arm with one hand and smoothed the hair off his forehead with the other. “He had one ear infection when he was six months old and I’ve been watching for that. But he’s just not acting like himself.”