A Baby For The Doctor

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Did the man never get thrown up on? He was a pediatrician.

In contrast, she was dressed—as usual—in riding pants and flannel. She had mud down her side where one of her young clients used her hip as a stepstool getting off his horse after therapy.

And she had been talking to herself. About him.

She stood the shovel on end and raised one eyebrow. “I’m a very good conversationalist, I’ll have you know.”

“Apparently.” He pushed off the wall with his shoulder and held out the bag. “For you. Double chocolate. Jules said it was your favorite.”

“It is. And you have perfect timing, actually. I’m done here. Want to share? I have milk.” When he gave her a look, she laughed. “No worries. We ate earlier because Levi can’t hold out until I’m finished with the animals. His babysitter—actually, your sister Wynn—is putting him to bed. He’s finally able to sleep in his room and even goes into his crib without crying.”

She slid the barn door closed and locked it.

“You don’t have to put the horses in?” He followed her down the trail around the pond toward her home.

“It’s warm enough now that I let them stay in the field sometimes. They work hard during the day, so they frolic at night.” Her lips twitched at her horse humor. See, she was funny. She could carry on a conversation. Reaching her front porch, she sat on the small bench outside the front door and shucked her boots, entering the cottage in sock feet, Ash right behind her. “Hey, Wynn, how did he do?”

Ash’s sister Wynn put her finger to her lips. “Sound asleep. That last bottle did the trick.”

“He didn’t sleep long this afternoon. I figured he’d go down pretty easy.” Gus nosed his way out of Levi’s room and ambled over, bumping his head against her hand until she crouched down to give him her attention. She looked up at Wynn as she scratched behind Gus’s ears. “Did he eat any food?”

“A few crackers and some mandarin oranges, even swallowed a little bit.” Wynn pulled the ponytail holder out of her long blond hair, shaking it out to fall down her back. “He’s precious. What time do you need me tomorrow?”

“My clients are in the morning tomorrow, so Mrs. Matthews can watch him. Thanks, though. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Pish.” Wynn picked up her purse, a small suede satchel with six-inch fringe, as she walked to the door. “I love that little guy.”

Ash towered over his petite sister. He put his arm around her. “If you’re looking for something to do while you’re home, I could use some help in the office. My receptionist is on maternity leave as of Tuesday.”

Wynn gave her brother a light shove. “Good luck with that.”

He closed the door behind Wynn. “She’s always been mean to me.”

“I can’t understand why. I know you’re glad to see her. She said she hasn’t been home for more than a day or two in three years.” Jordan grinned and held up the bakery bag, thankful that no awkwardness lingered between them. “Want a piece of the cupcake?”

He smiled. “There’s an oatmeal cookie in there for me. I was hoping we could talk for a minute.”

Unease drilled her right in the belly, but she poured two big glasses of cold milk and placed the cupcake on a napkin. “Let’s go sit in the living room and I’ll light a fire.”

With a long match from the container on the mantel, she lit the tinder under the logs. After watching a few seconds to make sure it caught, she joined Ash on the floor behind the coffee table. Gus settled beside her, his big head in her lap. “You don’t really strike me as a sit-on-the-floor-and-eat-cookies kind of guy.”

He looked up, surprised. “Really? At home, I always eat cookies on the floor.”

She laughed. “Okay, okay.”

The cupcake was her favorite but she couldn’t eat it, not knowing that Ash wanted to talk about Levi. “So what’s going on?”

Ash picked up the cookie and put it down again without taking a bite. “Okay. Let’s start at the beginning. We know that Levi is developmentally delayed. Trauma can do that. Neglect can do that. But when I examined him, he had a reflex—the Babinski reflex—that should be gone by the time he’s three. Sometimes if a child still has that reflex later, it’s a sign that there might be nerve damage. Because of the nature of the abuse that he suffered, I felt like it would be better to do the tests and find out for sure.”

“You sound like you’re reading from a report.”

He made a face. “Sorry. Professional hazard. I usually do better.”

She threaded her fingers into Gus’s thick pelt, letting the familiarity of his soft fur soothe her. “It’s okay. So the tests that we had done were to see if he has nerve damage. Like to his spine?”

“Yes. The fact that he isn’t crawling or walking even though his nutrition is better and he’s getting stronger made me wonder if his condition is irreversible.”

Jordan couldn’t breathe. “And the results of the test?”

“They were inconclusive.” His eyes were on hers, and the concern in them was so deep that it made her feel exposed, like he could see how shattered she was at the thought that Levi might have suffered permanent damage at the hands of his parents.

She swallowed hard, trying to process but knowing that she couldn’t really do that until she had some space to grieve. “So what you’re saying is that he may never walk?”

He stared at the fire for a second before he answered, meeting her eyes again. “I’m saying it’s a possibility. Kids’ bodies heal differently than adults. We just don’t know—won’t know—until we know.”

Burying her face in her hands, she tried so hard to fight back the emotional response to what he had told her and just look at it logically. She couldn’t. Silent sobs racked her body as she tried in vain to just take in a breath. How cruel was it that the abuse he had suffered strapped in a chair and left there could consign him to a wheelchair permanently?

Slowly, she became aware of Ash’s arms around her, his lips murmuring against her hair. “It’s gonna be okay.”

She pushed away from him, scrubbing the tears from her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what—I hate to cry.”

“You love him. That’s understandable.”

“He’s not even my kid.” She drew in a long, shaky breath. “And somehow that makes it even worse. He deserves a happy, stable life after all he’s been through and I have no way of making sure that happens.”

“I know. He does deserve that.” He rubbed his temples with his long doctor fingers and she noted that his fingernails were no longer rainbow, but there was a smudge of pink polish on one nail.

She felt a pang somewhere in the region of her heart as she thought about the fact that he took time to do manicures with little girls with cancer. Maybe he wasn’t quite the playboy that she made him out to be in her mind. He’d also taken the time to come here and talk through this with her because he knew it would be difficult.

She took another deep breath and tried to focus. Okay, so Levi might be in a wheelchair. At the very least, this information meant that he needed physical therapy immediately. It would be a long, arduous road for him, and she hated that thought. “Is it painful?”

“His legs? I don’t think so. He doesn’t act like it is. And he does have at least some feeling in his legs. My recommendation would be to do intense physical therapy and reevaluate in six months. There’s a doctor in Atlanta who has done some pretty great work with injuries of this kind, too. It would be good to get a second opinion. I’m not a specialist.”

“It’s going to be hard.”

“Yes.” He paused. “No doubt about that—it will be hard, on both of you.”

“I’ve done hard things before.” Claire had been working full-time when their mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It had been quick and it had been brutal and, while they shared the responsibility, it had been Jordan who had been at their mother’s side.

“When I think about the things in my life that shaped my character the most, it isn’t the things that came easily to me that I remember.” Ash made a face. “Sounds like a cliché when I say it like that, but it’s not.”

She nodded her head slowly. “It really doesn’t matter how it affects me. I’m an adult and I may not have known what we were facing, but I signed up for this. He didn’t.”

The fire had burned down to embers. Ash looked at his watch and grimaced. “I should go. I have a patient having her tonsils out in the morning and I promised I’d be there before she goes in for surgery.”

He got to his feet and tousled her hair slightly. “It’s gonna be okay. You don’t have to do this alone. We’ll all be here to help.”

Once again, Jordan, who hated to cry, had tears pooling in her eyes. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She heard the door open and looked back. “Hey, Ash.”

When he turned around, she said, “Ask me again sometime.”

“Ask you wh—Oh.” He grinned, that all-American smile of his flashing white in the dim room. “Maybe when my pride recovers.”

The door closed behind him before she could think of a clever retort. He was so confusing to her. She knew him to be a good-time guy, never serious about anything except maybe medicine. Now that she was spending more time with him, she was seeing a sweet, more sensitive side. She couldn’t help but wonder which one was the real Ash Sheehan.

* * *

Ash walked slowly around the pond toward his car. The stars were so bright out here, even just a couple of miles from town. The black sky was vast and it seemed like it should be quiet, but it wasn’t. Horses blowing, donkeys shuffling, wind whispering in the tops of the pines and the occasional shout of a child who was supposed to be asleep.

It was peaceful, even with his mind on a special little boy with a very special foster mom.

“Nice night for a walk?”

The voice startled his heart into double time until he realized it was his brother, Joe, sitting in the dark on the back porch of the farmhouse. He walked a little closer. “A little chilly, to be honest. What are you doing?”

“Having my celebratory bedtime root beer. Want one?”

Ash shrugged. “Sure.”

When Joe came back from the kitchen, Ash took the cold amber bottle and smiled. “You got the good stuff.”

“Yes, well, by this time of day, I feel the need to treat myself.” Joe took a swig, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “So what’s going on with Jordan?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Joe pierced Ash with a look from his ice-blue eyes. “You have a reputation with the ladies. Nothing wrong with that—until you set your sights on my sister-in-law.”

“I...umm...I don’t have my sights set on anyone. If you must know, I asked her out and she turned me down.”

“Great. Now you’ll see her as a challenge.”

“I won’t. I don’t, Joe. I like her. She’s different than the women I date. We’re friends, I think.”

“You think?” In the relative darkness of the porch with only the glow from the kitchen windows for light, Joe’s glower was still spectacular.

“Do they teach you to do that in cop school or were you just blessed to be able to use that look at will?” Ash grinned. “I’m kidding. Yes, we’re friends. I’m her foster son’s pediatrician, that’s all.”

Joe drained the last of his root beer and set the bottle down none too gently. “If you should happen to change your mind about that, don’t.”

“I’ll consider that carefully.” Ash handed Joe his own empty bottle and walked down the steps. “You know, I’m not as shallow as you think, Joe.”

“I don’t think you’re shallow, but your relationships usually are. Jordan deserves better.”

As he walked to his car, slightly irritated by his older brother’s characterizations, he had to admit that Joe was right. His relationships usually were shallow by design.

And Jordan did deserve better than him.

Chapter Five (#u96d88f8f-fbad-5e81-851e-9e39512f2257)

Jordan pulled the body brush out of her grooming kit and went to work brushing off the dirt and dust she’d loosened with the curry comb. She had Leo tied off on one side of the barn door while Amelia worked on Freckles on the other side. During the week, the volunteers who came in to assist with clients did the daily grooming before tacking up. They were awesome, but she wanted her own hands on her horses at least once a week. She was the one who knew them best and she could recognize a little problem before it became a big problem.

Joe’s daughter, Amelia, laughed as Freckles’s tail smacked her in the back. Again. “I really think he does that on purpose.”

“He definitely does.” Jordan scraped a stubborn mud spot off Leo’s shoulder. “He thinks it’s hilarious to grab the end of my braids. We should’ve named him Rascal.”

Sundays had become—hands down—Jordan’s favorite time of the week at Red Hill Farm. Since they got their first foster crew in, Claire had insisted they have family dinners on the lawn after church. Every Sunday the family gathered and ate together on the long row of picnic tables. When it was cold, they had a fire. When it rained, they ate inside in all the nooks and crannies of the old plantation house.

Most of the time the spread was a hodgepodge of makings for sandwiches fruit, and whatever anyone else wanted to bring. Sometimes they had a lot of green bean casseroles, but the point wasn’t the food.

It was being together.

Over the last few months, as foster children had come and gone, their families had been included in Sunday family dinner, too. It wasn’t unusual to see a birth family sitting with a foster family. Black, white, grandparents, young parents. In Jordan’s mind, it was a picture of what a table in Heaven would look like.

Church, family, horses, perfect.

“Can I help?” One of Claire and Joe’s younger ones, a tiny six-year-old named Penny, stood at the fence. Behind Penny, Jordan could see a group of kids around Ash, who had brought his guitar and had them squealing with laughter at his silly songs.

She smiled at Penny. “How about I finish up with Leo here and then we bring Hagrid out for a ride? He could really use the exercise.”

Penny nodded, big brown eyes wide on Jordan’s face. A month ago those eyes wouldn’t even connect, the trauma she’d experienced evident in every inch of her. Narrow shoulders had curved in as if to protect herself from some potential attempt to steal more of her childhood. And Jordan was reminded again that the children at Red Hill Farm weren’t a distraction, they were the reason they did this.

Penny’s eyes were still on Jordan, taking everything in. Jordan held up the tool she was using. “This pick cleans Leo’s feet so that his hooves stay strong and healthy.”

Scraping the dirt and muck out of Leo’s hooves, she checked for any sores, cracks or infection. She’d been Penny once, a long time ago, just wanting to be close to the horses. “See how easy that is? But remember that Leo is used to me. He’s been my horse for a long time, so he’s comfortable with me around his feet. Even so, I still put my hand on him when I’m moving around so he knows where I am when he can’t see me.”