Doctoring the Single Dad Read online

  Not a day went by when he didn’t question his ability to handle this latest twist life had thrown him. Granted, he’d gotten better at some things, but he was far from confident.

  “Well, I don’t know about a thousand questions, but we can get started with a few,” she told him, “and I’ll do my best to answer them.” She took out another instrument. Switching on the light, she looked inside Heather’s ears. Heather made a noise that was clearly a protest. “I know, I know,” she said soothingly, switching to the other ear, “it’s no fun having someone stick things in your ears. I’ll be quick,” she promised, then lowered the instrument. “See?” she said to the baby. “All done.”

  “You talk to her as if she’s able to understand,” Lucas observed. He talked to Heather himself, but it was just to fill the silence. He didn’t really believe she understood him.

  Nikki turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder. A tolerant smile curved the corners of her mouth.

  “Never underestimate these little beings, Mr. Wingate. They have razor-sharp minds and are capable of absorbing things like multi-surfaced sponges.” Nikki stopped talking long enough to listen to Heather’s chest. All clear, she noted happily. Nothing was more beautiful than a healthy baby, she thought. “You can get her dressed now,” she told Heather’s father.

  Picking up Heather’s folder, she made a few notations, then glanced over the top sheet Wingate had filled out. The handwriting, she observed, left a lot to be desired. It took her several seconds to make sense of the words. It wasn’t easy.

  “I see that Heather’s current with all her immunizations.” Nikki raised her eyes to look at him. Finished with dressing his daughter, the man now held Heather against him. “That your doing?”

  At times, the responsibility for this newly minted human being still overwhelmed him, but he was doing the best that he could. “Yes.”

  Nikki nodded, closing the folder again. “Commendable.”

  Lucas lifted his shoulder in a careless response, brushing off the compliment. While he was still struggling to hit some kind of rhythm when it came to raising Heather, he hadn’t thought of what he was doing as being anything outstanding or even out of the ordinary. It all had to do with keeping his daughter healthy and thriving. Heather was the reason for his existence. She was what kept him going. If he lost her, there’d be no reason for him to breathe anymore. It was as simple as that.

  As a question occurred to her, Nikki opened the folder again and glanced over the personal information page, zeroing in on the line requesting the name of Wingate’s employer.

  “You work at home?”

  He nodded. “Most of the time.” He’d been self-employed for several years now. “I own my own business.” Which was a fortunate turn of events. “It makes being with Heather easier.”

  Nikki nodded absently. Closing the folder, she held it against her chest as she studied the interaction between father and daughter for a moment. There was definitely a bond, she thought. Most first-time fathers of infants usually held them as if the slightest wrong move would cause the infants to break. Heather’s father held his daughter as if he’d had a great deal of practice at it. Nikki couldn’t help wondering how long he’d been on his own and why.

  Had his wife walked out on him? Had having a baby been his idea, not hers? If so, had he talked his wife into it, only to have her balk at the responsibility, at being tied down once the baby was born?

  In Nikki’s opinion, these were questions that needed some kind of answers. At least cursory ones. But there was no easy way to broach the subject.

  She’d watched Wingate as he’d dressed his daughter. There was a great deal of love evident in the simple act. She’d been at this for a while and Wingate didn’t act like a parent who felt as if he’d been saddled with a heavy burden.

  Nikki decided to proceed cautiously.

  “So, is Heather’s mother completely out of her life?” She tried to make the question sound casual, but had a feeling that she didn’t quite manage to pull it off. Especially when Heather’s father looked up at her sharply.

  “Why would you want to know something like that?” Lucas asked her.

  Nikki heard the wariness in his voice. She also felt as if she was being challenged. “This is supposed to be a complete history and physical.”

  “Of the baby,” he retorted tersely.

  The parting had definitely not been on the best of terms, she thought.

  “Yes,” she answered evenly. “And Heather’s background is part of what contributes to her makeup. Most of the babies I see are brought in by their mothers. Occasionally, both parents come in. But very rarely do I see a baby brought in only by his or her father. There is the exception,” she allowed, then went on to illustrate it. “Mom’s sick so a slightly out-of-his-element Dad takes over and brings the infant in. And, every now and then, there is the househusband. But we’ve already established that that’s not you.” She opened the folder again, but this time, she didn’t need to read it. She’d already gleaned what she needed to know. “Everywhere it asks for information on Heather’s mother, you’ve left the space blank.”

  “I know,” he replied, his face devoid of any kind of expression.

  The omissions had been deliberate. After seven months, it was still too painful to go into anything dealing with Carole, too painful to even write down her name. He was trying his very best to move on, to seal himself off from yesterday and only live in today while keeping his eyes focused on reaching tomorrow.

  But he wasn’t quite there yet and bringing up memories of Carole would only impede any progress he might be making or even hoped to make.

  “Be careful, Mr. Wingate,” Nikki cautioned quietly.

  “Careful?” he repeated. What was the woman talking about? “Careful with what?”

  “Animosity has a way of spilling out and contaminating anything it comes in contact with.”

  Is that what she thought was happening? “You mean Heather?”

  She gently ran her hand over the baby’s downy head. Heather gurgled. “That’s why we’re both in this room, isn’t it?”

  “There is no animosity, Dr. Connors,” he told her, his voice tight. “There’s just pain.”

  He hadn’t admitted that, not even to himself. What was he doing, baring his soul to someone he didn’t even know?

  She had patients waiting for her and the waiting room, she knew, was filled. But she couldn’t just walk away from the pain she saw in Lucas Wingate’s eyes.

  She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Whatever happened between the two of you, you have to forgive her. For Heather’s sake as well as for your own. I know it might not be easy, but—”

  “How do I forgive her, Doctor?” The words were forming and coming out against his better judgment. It was almost as if he couldn’t stop them. “How do I forgive Carole for dying?”

  Nikki’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  “My wife,” he said, “how do I forgive her for dying and leaving me like this? This wasn’t the way it was supposed to have been. I wasn’t supposed to do this alone.”

  It took Nikki a second to recover and a couple more to catch her breath. Talk about being blindsided. “Your wife is dead?”

  The very word skewered into his gut like a jagged corkscrew. Lucas struggled not to let his emotions overpower him and come rushing out. He could feel his hands forming angry fists even as he held Heather. Fists that had nothing to hit.

  His voice was monotone as he replied, “Yes.”

  Nikki felt almost ghoulish for probing, but she needed to ask. This was for the record—and to get her to understand Heather’s father a little better. “How did it happen?”

  He looked at her sharply. “What does it matter?” Lucas demanded.

  “It matters,” she assured him, her eyes shifting to Heather, her implication clear.

  All right, he thought. Maybe the doctor was right. Maybe it was necessary for Heather’s records. If that wa
s the case, he might as well get this out of the way and not put it off any longer.

  “Carole died seventy-two hours after giving birth to Heather. The doctor said it was some kind of complication due to childbirth. She suddenly started hemorrhaging in the middle of the night.” He tried not to see it in his mind’s eye, but it was hard not to. “It all happened so fast, they didn’t have enough time to save her. I woke up when the nurse who’d come in to check on her hit code blue and all sorts of medical personnel started running into the room.” There was no place he could hide from the anguish that snared him. “My wife was dying and I was just sleeping through it.”

  He was obviously a loving husband, otherwise he wouldn’t have been sleeping in his wife’s hospital room. The man was being too hard on himself. “You couldn’t have known.”

  His eyes were blue flames. “I should have,” he insisted angrily. “Carole and I were in tune to one another. We finished each other’s sentences. I should have sensed what was happening.” His voice came dangerously close to cracking. “She was gone before I could say goodbye.”

  What was it like to have someone love you so much? Nikki wondered.

  Her last relationship, short-term though it had been, had ended when her boyfriend told her to stop wearing her heart on her sleeve. He found it embarrassing. But she was who she was. Ever since she could remember, she had always been compassionate. It was, Nikki firmly believed, what made her a good doctor.

  So, moved by Wingate’s story and more so by the pain she heard in his voice and saw in his eyes, she didn’t hesitate. Sharing in his grief, Nikki hugged him. The moment she did, she felt him stiffening.

  Most likely embarrassed by his own display of emotion and her response to it, the man had sealed himself off, she thought. Nikki took a step back, letting him restore his space.

  “Have you told anyone this?” she asked.

  “I just did.”

  And he was more than just a little annoyed with himself for doing it. The strain he was under was bigger than he thought. This wasn’t like him. He didn’t just go around spilling his guts like that. He knew better than that.

  “No,” she said gently, “I mean to someone professional.”

  He wasn’t following. “You’re not a doctor?” he asked, confused. “I thought—”

  Taking pity on him, Nikki spelled it out for the man. “I was referring to a psychologist or at least a grief counselor.”

  He had no desire to sit in a room and relive the ordeal with a stranger. Once was way more than enough for him.

  “I was raised to work things out on my own,” he told her.

  He was resurrecting his walls, Nikki thought. She could hear the distance in his voice.

  “Sometimes that doesn’t always work out. There’s nothing wrong in asking for help. Everyone does it at one point or another,” she assured him. Her words, she could tell, were falling on deaf ears.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” His tone said just the opposite.

  Nikki retreated. There was no sense in pushing, she told herself. Lucas Wingate was here for his daughter, not to be badgered no matter how well-intentioned she might be in her suggestions.

  Turning toward Heather who had kept amazingly quiet during this whole exchange, she smiled at the round little face. With her curly light blond hair and bright, blue eyes, Heather was nothing if not adorably huggable. The girl’s mother had to have been fair-haired, Nikki caught herself musing, since the man standing before her fell into the tall, dark and handsome category, with brown hair so dark it almost looked black. And his eyes were almost a navy blue, unlike the shining blue stars that Heather had.

  “Well, the good news is that you’ve been doing everything right. Your little girl seems to be the picture of health and thriving very nicely. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it,” she advised cheerfully.

  “Mostly I’ve been stumbling around in the dark,” he admitted. Maybe Carole was looking down on them, keeping their daughter safe. “I never gave parenting much thought until now,” he admitted. It was more like trial by fire than anything else. The last seven months had seemed more like seven years. “When does it start getting easier?”

  As far as Nikki had gleaned from her practice, it didn’t. “I’m told that the first fifty years are the hardest.”

  “Fifty?” Lucas echoed incredulously.

  She laughed at the stunned expression on his face. “At least, that’s what my mother maintains.” She glanced down at the folder she was still holding, remembering something she’d glossed over earlier. He’d moved here from the east coast just a short while ago. “Do you know anyone here yet?”

  Lucas shook his head. “Haven’t had the chance to really talk to anyone yet. Heather and I just moved to the area three weeks ago.” He’d tried to make a go of staying where he and Carole had lived, but everywhere he turned, he’d been there with Carole. Everything he saw reminded him of Carole. He couldn’t move on. Even just breathing was hard. So, he’d moved. “I thought we could do with a fresh start.”

  Translation—he was running from memories. The downside of loving someone with your whole heart, she supposed. Either way, Heather’s father was new here and, as of yet, had no one to turn to. That wasn’t good.

  Without realizing it, Nikki caught her bottom lip between her teeth, working it as she did a quick tally of pros and cons in her head. The “cons” far outnumbered the “pros” but she felt sorry for Wingate and that one thing tipped the scales drastically in his favor. She made her decision.

  Taking one of her business cards out of her oversize pocket, Nikki did something she’d never done before. She wrote her cell phone number and home number on the back of the card, then held it out to him.

  He looked at her quizzically.

  “Seeing as how you’re new here and really new at all this,” she nodded at Heather, “I thought you might like to have something to fall back on.”

  Taking the business card from her, Lucas looked at the numbers she’d just written on the back. Her handwriting, he couldn’t help but notice, was even and utterly legible.

  So much for stereotypes. “Are these the numbers for the hospital?”

  “No, that’s my cell number. And that one is my private number.” His quizzical expression deepened. “The middle of the night is a scary time to have no one to turn to,” she explained. “The middle of the night is also the time that most children under the age of seven pick to get sick. If Heather suddenly comes down with something and you find yourself in a bad way, call me.”

  He stared at the card for a moment and then at her. “You don’t mind?”

  Nikki laughed. “If I minded getting calls in the middle of the night, I’ve spent an awful lot of years studying to get into the wrong profession. Don’t worry,” she assured him, “I’m used to it. After office hours, parents call my service and then my service calls me.” She indicated the card he was still holding. “I just got rid of the middle man for you.” Her smile was one of warmth and compassion. “No one should have to do this alone for the first time. You need a support system in place, at least until you’re ready to take off the training wheels.”

  A knock on the door interrupted anything further she had to say. Bob popped his head in. “Mrs. McGuire’s Teddy is getting very restless.”

  So what else was new? “On my way,” she assured the nurse breezily. She spared Lucas one last look. “You’re doing just fine—both of you.”

  And then she was gone.

  Chapter Three

  Weary, Nikki walked into her house and dropped both her purse and her keys on the antique table—a housewarming gift from her mother—beside the door. The keys fell off, landing on the travertine floor. She left them there. If they’d nicked the tile, so be it. She didn’t have the energy to care.

  She’d just begun to kick off her shoes when the landline rang.

  Nikki didn’t bother suppressing the groan that rose in response.

  Please let that be som
e telemarketer on the other end wanting to sell me something or find out how I feel about the spring TV lineup. Anything, just not another emergency. I’m not up to it tonight.

  After her office hours were over, Nikki had gone across the street to Blair Memorial. She had several pint-sized patients who’d been admitted in the last few days and she felt she couldn’t very well call it a night until she checked on them before going home.

  August Elridge’s parents had cornered her for a full half hour, taking turns shooting questions at her. It was clear to Nikki that they were both bona fide hypochondriacs. The eight-year-old had been admitted for a routine tonsillectomy. Less than twelve hours after surgery, he seemed to be doing very well.

  Too bad the same couldn’t be said for his parents.

  Approaching the ringing phone on the wall landline as cautiously as if she were trying to get closer to an angry anaconda, Nikki peered at the caller ID.

  It was her mother.

  Was that better or worse than being called in for an emergency? It all depended, she supposed, on why her mother was calling. She really wasn’t up to being on the receiving end of another installment of Mother and the Unmarried Daughter.

  But she knew her mother. If she didn’t pick up before her answering machine came on, her mother would just call her back again.

  And again.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Nikki removed the portable receiver from its cradle, pressed Talk and placed it against her ear as she headed for the sofa. Might as well be comfortable for this.

  “Hi, Mom. What’s up?” she asked in the most cheerful voice she could muster. Her energy petered out by the fourth word.

  “Nothing,” Maizie responded in the same cheerful voice. “I just wanted to touch base with my favorite daughter.”

  Nikki sat down and put her feet up on the coffee table. She was definitely too young to feel so drained.

  “Mom,” she tactfully reminded the woman on the other end of the call, “I am your only daughter.”

  “If there had been more, you still would have been my favorite,” her mother blissfully assured her. “Challenging,” Maizie allowed, “but definitely my favorite.”