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Child of Her Heart
Cheryl St.John
After enduring so much tragedy, Meredith Malone celebrated her latest triumph–delivery of a healthy baby girl! Meredith's dreams of motherhood had finally come true despite the fact that little Anna happened to be a different race than her mommy.To escape the media barrage due to the clinic's obvious mix-up of donor sperm, Meredith headed to the shore…and into the arms of Justin Weber. This sexy attorney made the quiet nights and peaceful days away from the city ripe with a passion she'd never experienced. But was his mysterious, secretive nature hiding something? Or had past experience taught her to find something wrong with this man who was oh-so-right–as a husband and as a daddy?
“You sure are a pretty little thing, Anna. Your mama will have to chase the boys off with a stick.”
Anna’s expression crinkled into a beaming toothless smile, and Justin chuckled.
An ache yawned in Meredith’s chest, a sad yearning for the father she hadn’t thought important only a year ago. She’d planned this baby, known she was going to raise her alone and had been prepared to be the only parent her child needed.
But that had been before. Before she’d seen Justin with his children…and with Anna in his arms.
“What’s a frown doing on that pretty face?” Justin asked as he reached out and touched her between her brows. Her skin warmed like a schoolgirl’s.
Meredith looked into his face, a face so darkly handsome and intriguingly expressive, and admitted a monumental truth to herself—she was attracted to this man. It was strong and exhilarating. And physical.
She was completely out of her comfort zone.
It felt…incredible.
CHERYL ST.JOHN
A peacemaker, a romantic, an idealist and a discouraged perfectionist are the terms that Cheryl uses to describe herself. The award-winning author of both historical and contemporary novels says that knowing her stories bring hope and pleasure to readers is one of the best parts of being a writer. The other wonderful part is being able to set her own schedule and have time to work around her growing family.
Cheryl loves to hear from readers! E-mail her at: SaintJohn@aol.com.
Child of Her Heart
Cheryl St.John
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Be a part of
Because birthright has its privileges and family ties run deep.
After a sperm-bank mix-up, single mom Meredith Malone got the shock of a lifetime….
Meredith Malone: She survived breast cancer and a fiancé’s desertion. Now the birth of her baby caused a scandal in the community. Meredith had to protect her child, so she fled to a vacation spot…and fell in love. Could she learn to trust again?
Justin Weber: A hotshot attorney determined to protect the Children’s Connection, Justin wanted to learn more about Meredith and her baby. As he spent time with her, he began to see his future in her eyes….
Nurse Nancy Allen: A devoted health-care worker, nurse Nancy went to the authorities with suspicions about a baby ring operating out of the clinic. But could her speaking out have been a fatal mistake?
Special thanks to the following for their assistance with factual details: RaeAnne Thayne, who shared her timely family vacation to Cannon Beach in vivid detail; Bonnie Blythe, who described the beaches and recommended informational links; and to the Johns Hopkins Breast Cancer Center experts for answering medical questions.
Thanks to Susan Mallery, Pamela Toth, Laurie Paige, Victoria Pade, Marie Ferrarella, Karen Rose Smith, RaeAnne Thayne, Gina Wilkins, Elizabeth Bevarly, Christie Ridgway and Anne Marie Winston, who worked hard to pull together the continuity threads and strengthen the series, and to Allison Lyons, who quickly and patiently answered questions and found solutions.
Contents
Prologue
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
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Prologue
“If the press gets wind of the mistake, the clinic’s reputation is shot.” Standing, Oliver Pearson leaned forward, one age-speckled hand on the polished mahogany table, and addressed the board of directors in his resonating deep voice. “I say we make a decision today. That baby was born nearly three months ago, and out of fear we’ve tabled the discussion long enough.”
Dianna March straightened her already rigid spine in her leather chair, the overhead fluorescents highlighting her elegant silver pageboy. “We had to give the woman some time, Oliver, for goodness’ sake! She gave birth to an African-American infant when she was expecting a child who looks like herself. How insensitive would we look if we rushed right into her hospital room and asked her to sign waivers of release?”
Albert Squires, a balding, paunchy, retired executive, joined the discussion. “Miss Malone has had time. Her lawyer is calling and threatening to sue. The Children’s Connection needs to offer compensation.”
It was a generous offer coming from a man who’d worn the same burgundy suit to board meetings since 1995.
“A payoff is an admission of wrongdoing,” Miles Remington, the youngest member of the board, disagreed. “Are we admitting responsibility?”
“The clinic is responsible,” Dianna replied. “Someone mixed up the sperm from the donors and fertilized her eggs with sperm from an African-American.”
“How do we know for certain that Miss Malone intends to sue?” John G. Reynolds asked, joining the conversation for the first time.
“Her mother’s lawyer is asking for compensation,” Oliver replied.
“The mother can’t sue without the daughter,” the man replied. “Perhaps this is a lot of blustering to see how much they can bleed us for without going public.”
Terrence Logan, retired CEO of Logan Corporation, stood and walked to a table laden with a silver coffee urn and assorted pastries. He poured himself a steaming cup and returned to again fold his six-foot frame into his chair. “We’ve kept tabs through her doctor and her counselor at the clinic. What we need is someone to talk to the woman directly. Check her out, see where she stands on the issues and discover whether or not she’s amenable to compensation.”
“Justin’s the man.” Miles emphasized his words by jabbing his doughnut in the air. “Why isn’t he here, anyway?”
Miles was referring to Justin Weber, the Logans’ close family friend and corporate attorney for Children’s Connection, one of the premier fertility clinics in the country.
“He’s flying back from Chicago this afternoon,” Terrence replied. “Late yesterday he settled with the insurance company over that fire incident.”
“Send him to evaluate the Malone woman,” Garnet Kearn said. She was a small woman with thin, wispy hair dyed a mousy brown and badly permed, making her head look like a large coconut. “That’s his job.”
“I don’t think that’s wise,” Terrence said. “He’s scheduled for his vacation, and I can’t ask him to postpone it again. He’s promised to take his boys to Cannon Beach.”
He was referring to the company-owned suites in an elegant inn on the coast of Oregon where their executives, board members and corporate attorney shared privileges.
“When does he leave?” Albert asked.
Terrence took a sip of coffee. “He should have returned this morning, but he stayed over to wind up this Chicago deal.”
Silence fell over the room. The clock on the wall ticked off the minutes like a time bomb.
Wayne Thorpe sat forward, his chair complaining beneath his considerable weight. The other board members looked to him with interest. He didn’t speak often, but when he did, his words were usually worthy of listening. His nose and cheeks were florid from his nightly appointment with a bourbon bottle, and he wore heavy gold signet rings on both pinkies. “Things are probably tense for Meredith Malone,” he said. “We need to consider her feelings in the matter. The board might be wise to give her more time to think over her situation and her choices.”
No one said a word, digesting the suggestion, wondering where he was taking it.
Dianna March nodded her agreement.
“I’m sure there’s an available suite at the Lighthouse Inn,” Thorpe added. “It’s February, after all, off-season.”
Terrence looked decidedly uncomfortable.
Dianna’s eyebrows rose.
As the implication sunk in, Thorpe’s proposal was met with nods and sidelong glances. Send Meredith Malone to the same inn where their attorney would be vacationing.
“It would keep her away from the media awhile longer,” Albert agreed.
“And give her some private time with her baby,” Garnet said. “The clinic is all about families.”
Terrence shook his head, but every person in the room, including him, knew something had to be done.
“Who will make the offer?” Miles asked.
“The chairman?” Wayne Thorpe suggested.
“Excellent idea.” Oliver slapped the table as if banging a gavel. Murmurs of agreement echoed.
Dianna March was the chairwoman this term. Fitting that a woman should make the offer. As she tucked her hair behind one ear, diamonds glittered on her slender hand. “I’ll see to it this afternoon.”
One
Leaving Portland, Meredith Malone drove west along the Sunset Highway. Sweeping wheat fields bordered by verdant hills and towering mountains soon gave way to orchards, which gave way to forests of spruce, alder, cedar and hemlock. In places the highway cut in so deeply that the bases of the huge trees were eye level on both sides of the car, giving the feeling that she was an infinitesimal part of the endless forest. She drove in the shaded wilderness for an hour before seeing sunlight and sky again.
Here, an occasional gift shop dotted the sides of the road, joined by deserted fruit stands that would be busy in later months. During the summer even antique dealers displayed goods along this stretch of road, and tourists with RVs, towing ATVs or with bike and surfboard carriers slowed traffic considerably. This time of year, however, hers was one of only a few cars, so she made good time.
She descended the last hill from Saddle Mountain, pleased that she’d planned the drive for after her three-month-old daughter had been fed and was ready to sleep most of the morning.
She drove through a small river valley and climbed through the dense foliage along the coast. She hadn’t been to the coast for years, and as she started the last descent toward Cannon Beach junction, the Pacific Ocean appeared, vast and surprisingly familiar. Ahead was a fleeting distant view of Haystack Rock, projecting a couple of hundred feet out of the water. From almost untouched countryside, she drove the steep loop down to Cannon Beach and into the small town.
From her car seat in the rear, Anna woke and let Meredith know she was hungry with tiny rooting sounds and a long wail of complaint.
“We’re there, sweetie. Mommy just has to find the address.”
She glanced at the piece of paper on the seat beside her and followed directions through the quaint little community to a multicolored brick inn near the beach. White shutters made the windows look welcoming, and each guest suite sported a sunny balcony. Shrubs bordered the building and lined the drive and the walk.
Meredith unfastened the carrier, grabbed Anna’s bag and her purse, and carried the seat holding her baby. She would come back later for the rest of her belongings. Traveling with an infant was an enormous task. She had packed diapers and clothing and blankets and toys, and still she’d wondered if she’d remembered everything she would need for her stay. Once again she said a prayer of thanks for the blessing and ability to breast-feed. At least she didn’t have to worry about bottles and formula.
It may have been a perfectly natural thing to a million women, but for her it was a gift she never took for granted.
Anna was red-faced and wailing by the time Meredith entered the lobby, set the carrier on the carpeted floor and checked in.
“Sorry,” she said above the crying to the woman at the counter. “She’s hungry.”
The woman nodded. “Can I help you carry your things to your room? Maybe she’ll settle down if you take her out and hold her.”
“You’re probably right.” Meredith leaned over, unbuckled Anna’s restraints and picked her up. Anna immediately quieted as she peered at her new surroundings and blinked at her mother.
“You’ve been cooped up in that seat for a while, haven’t you, sweetie?” Meredith smiled and turned back for the room key.
The clerk was staring at Anna.
Pain stabbed in Meredith’s chest. Anna was a beautiful child with black hair, near-black eyes and velvety skin the color of coffee with cream. Meredith, on the other hand, was as fair-skinned as could be.
Would she ever get used to people staring at the two of them? She waited for a question—people often blurted the first thing on their minds. But this woman displayed a modicum of tact and said nothing.
With a cheerful smile pasted on her face, she came around the wall from the little room she’d been standing in and picked up the carrier and Meredith’s bag. “I’ll show you to your room.”
Not “what a pretty baby” or “what is her name?” Meredith tamped down the hurt as the woman walked her down a hallway and led her to a set of double doors. Meredith used the plastic key card and let herself in. The hotel employee set her belongings just inside. “Have a nice stay.”
“Thank you.” Meredith closed the door and locked it. Her first impression was that the suite was as large as her apartment at home, but far more elegantly furnished.
