Doctoring the Single Dad Page 6

  And immediately thought he was still asleep.

  Taking in a deep breath, Lucas tried desperately to rouse himself, to pry open his eyes and banish the last remnants of the sleep-laden fog from his brain.

  But his eyes wouldn’t open—because they already were open.

  This had to be a dream. Otherwise, why wasn’t he hearing Heather? Where was Heather?

  For that matter, where was his clutter?

  There were no newspapers piled on the coffee table, no brigade of unopened, economy-size packages of disposable diapers standing against the wall in one corner of the room. No empty baby bottles scattered about on any and every flat surface, waiting to be gathered up and washed.

  Lucas looked around incredulously. Everything was neat and tidy. He’d all but forgotten a living space could be like this. It reminded him of the world he’d once known, before Heather had come into it. The world he’d known when Carole was still alive. Granted, he’d never been a great one for cleaning up after himself, but things had never hit critical mass until he’d become a single father.

  Lucas still wasn’t hearing her. Where was his daughter?

  “Heather?” he called out, pulling himself out of the recliner, a maneuver the rest of his body vehemently protested. The sleep he’d gotten represented the first uninterrupted rest he’d had since the move.

  Feeling a sense of panic spreading out from the center of his chest, Lucas hurried into the next room, the kitchen, and then stopped dead. The sink no longer had pots and dirty dishes overflowing. The box of pretzels that had comprised his dinner were no longer on the counter. Neither were yesterday’s empty jars that had contained baby food. Or was that today’s?

  What the hell was going on here?

  This wasn’t a dream, it was the beginning of a nightmare.

  His daughter was missing.

  And then the thousand and one pieces free-floating in his head pulled themselves together, slowly forming bits and pieces of a whole. The doctor had come here, he recalled. Had the woman decided to take Heather to the hospital? That would explain his daughter’s absence, but not why everything was suddenly so neat and tidy. It was as if he’d been whisked away to an alternate universe.

  He didn’t want a neat house, he wanted his daughter. “Heather!” he called out louder.

  “If she actually answers you, my mother knows this publicist who can get you bookings on cable channels and the late-night talk shows. You can bill her as the Amazing Heather.”

  He swung around to see that Heather’s doctor had come up behind him. Without Heather.

  “Where is she?” he asked, doing his best not to sound as anxious as he felt.

  “Heather’s in her room.” He really was a good father, wasn’t he? she thought. “I just finished checking on her. She’s sleeping like the proverbial baby.” Nikki smiled at him. He looked a little bewildered. Poor man, this was really hard on him. “So were you.”

  Lucas dragged a hand through his unruly hair. Embarrassed, he asked, “How long was I out?”

  Nikki glanced at her watch. It was getting close to 1:00 a.m. He’d been out like a light for the last two hours. “Not long enough. In my opinion, you could do with a little more sleep.”

  He tried to shake off the last of the sleepiness that still clung to him. He didn’t like feeling disoriented. Or in debt. “How long have you been here?”

  “The entire time,” she answered simply.

  Lucas shook his head. He wasn’t making himself clear. “I mean in hours.”

  “A couple or three.” It was closer to three, but there was no point in nitpicking.

  “A couple or three?” Lucas echoed incredulously. How was that possible? He’d just sat down in the recliner for a minute. But he had to have been asleep close to at least a couple, he reasoned, looking around. It would have taken at least that much time to have cleaned up—unless the doctor had dibs on a magic wand.

  “Well, at least there’s nothing wrong with your hearing,” Nikki quipped.

  Lucas scanned the area around him again, half expecting the neatness to morph back into the clutter he’d made his peace with.

  “And you did all this?” He swept his hand around the area.

  “No, the shoemaker’s elves did,” she deadpanned. “When they came in and found that you didn’t have any shoes that needed fixing, they decided to clear up the clutter instead. They’ve got a strong, stern union to answer to.”

  He stared at her. The doctors he was used to roller-skated in and out of an exam room, even the one who had informed him that Carole would no longer be part of his mornings and nights had been detached, brusque and quick. None of them would have ever made a house call, much less cleaned that house.

  “Why?”

  “Why have they got a union?” Nikki guessed at his question. “I don’t really know. You’ll have to take it up with them.”

  “No, why did you do this? Why did you clean up?” He realized he didn’t know if her effort had stopped with the kitchen, or if she’d continued cleaning everything in her path. Guilt sank in deeper.

  Nikki lifted a shoulder in a careless half shrug. “Nervous energy,” she told him. “Heather was asleep and I’m not very good at sitting still.”

  She didn’t bother adding that she’d never met a mess she couldn’t conquer and that she had a weakness for restoring order. Surface disorder was the easiest kind to work with, even chaotic disorder like what she’d found in Wingate’s house.

  “You could have gone home,” Lucas pointed out.

  “I said I’d watch Heather for you, remember?”

  He hadn’t meant to encroach on her time this way. She’d already done far more than he’d expected by coming here to treat his daughter.

  “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked.

  “I believe that would have come under the heading of cruel and unusual punishment,” she told him. He looked so adorably disheveled, she had to fight back the urge to push his hair out of his eyes. “A man in a coma would look like he was on a double dose of Ritalin compared to you.”

  He didn’t understand the reference. “I thought Ritalin was supposed to calm you down.”

  “That’s the way it works on children,” she clarified. “On adults, it has the exact opposite effect. Turns you into that mechanical rabbit that can go on forever without recharging.”

  “I guess I was kind of dead on my feet,” Lucas conceded.

  “Kind of?” Nikki laughed at the mild term he used. “Mr. Wingate, I looked out the window. There were vultures circling the house.”

  He had to admit that he felt a great deal more human now than he had in a week. “How do I thank you?”

  Nikki inclined her head, a warm smile on her lips. “You just did.”

  There was something in her smile. Something that got under his skin. Despite what he’d said, Lucas found himself reluctant to have her just leave. Reluctant not because having Heather’s pediatrician here created a sense of security for him, or because she was a natural beauty, even under less than perfect circumstances, but because she seemed to understand what he was going through. And that meant a great deal.

  Lucas hated to admit it, even silently, because it negated the image that he’d had of himself, but he needed this act of kindness, needed it in order to feel part of the human race again.

  “If you do this for everyone, when do you have time for yourself?” he asked.

  “I don’t do this for everyone,” she told him truthfully. “Only for those parents who look as if they’re about to float out to sea on an eight-by-ten ice floe.” Her voice was soft, calming. “You’re new here, and by your own admission, alone. I felt that you needed a helping hand.”

  There was no arguing with that. “A helping hand, a helping foot, a helping body in between,” he agreed, nodding his head.

  If he felt that way, she could do something else for him. “Well, if that’s the case, I could get you a list of nannies—all excellent—who you mig
ht consider hiring—”

  But Lucas stopped her. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t palm his daughter off on someone else. “My wife would have never wanted me to hire a stranger to raise our daughter,” he protested.

  She’d never met a father who wanted to do it all. Usually, the idea of a nanny was something they grasped on to with both hands, thankful that there was a light at the end of the tunnel and that they could make a break for it without guilt.

  “Part-time, then. Someone to relieve you once in a while, or for a few hours each day. Maybe every other day. However you want to work it.” She made her strongest argument for considering the idea. “Just so that you don’t lose sight of who you are.”

  Or thought she did. But his reply both negated her approach and also raised him up another notch in her estimation.

  “I know who I am,” Lucas insisted. “I’m Heather’s father.”

  Still, he needed to step back and look at the whole picture, take the future into consideration, not just this tiny part. “As she gets older, Heather’s going to want you to have more credentials than that. You can’t build your life around one person because that person is going to feel caged if you do. And when they burst out of that cage, you’re going to feel abandoned. Not to mention that you’ll find yourself in the middle of an identity crisis.” Which was why so many stay-at-home mothers suddenly found themselves at a loss as to what to do when their “babies” grew up and became adults, she thought.

  He watched her for a long moment. She was afraid maybe she’d offended him—and then he laughed. “Wow, minister to sick babies, vanquish clutter with a sweep of your hand, all while handing out indispensable advice. Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “Bending steel with my bare hands comes to mind,” she quipped. “Other than that—” Nikki spread her hands out wide and gave a little careless shrug. “I’ll let you know.”

  “Can I make you a cup of coffee?” The offer came out of the blue.

  “If you really want to do something for me, get in bed.” It was only after the words were out that Nikki realized what they must have sounded like to Heather’s father. Like an invitation. Embarrassed, Nikki tried to backtrack. “I meant—”

  Was it his imagination, or were her cheeks turning a light shade of pink? The least he could do was spare her any embarrassment. Lucas held up his hand, quickly stopping any need for an explanation.

  “I know what you meant.”

  But even as he assured her that he understood her suggestion was absolutely innocent, a little seed came out of nowhere, a seed that took her words and let his imagination run in a pleasant direction.

  “But,” he continued as if the image of her body next to his wasn’t taking on a life of its own, “I think having a cup of coffee with someone who single-handedly put my life back on the right track trumps getting a few more minutes of shut-eye.”

  Amused, and definitely up for coffee despite the hour, Nikki pointed out, “You might regret surrendering that time if Heather wakes up in a few minutes.”

  “I’m one of those guys who can make do on next to no sleep,” he confided, really starting to come around. “It was the absence of that ‘next to’ that was starting to do me in. Thanks to you, I’m good to go for at least another forty-eight hours. Really, thanks to you,” he emphasized, taking another look around as he led the way into the kitchen. “How did you know where everything went?” he asked her as he took an opened coffee can out of the refrigerator and placed it beside the baby monitor on the counter.

  “I’ve got an innate sense of where everything goes.” Nikki took a seat at the table. “My mother’s a real-estate agent. When I was a little girl, she used to take me with her whenever she conducted an open house on the weekend. When anyone arrived, she’d take them on a guided tour. I’d entertain myself by taking my own tour. I’d explore cupboards and closets and bureau drawers.”

  Lucas measured out two servings of coffee, depositing the granules into the coffee filter. Then he poured two cups of water into the coffeemaker and hit the brew button. The machine instantly made gurgling noises as it heated the water and routed it over the granules.

  “In other words,” he summarized with a grin, “you snooped.”

  “Research,” Nikki corrected, pretending to be serious. “I conducted research into the human condition.”

  Lucas took out two mugs from the cupboard overhead. “I’d say that was a very lofty term for snooping.”

  “Yeah,” Nikki conceded. “But that’s how I know, more or less, where things generally go.”

  “Well, you did a great job. The place looks a hundred times better than it did when Heather and I moved in. It was starting to look really hellish around here.”

  “You know, if you don’t like the idea of a nanny, you might want to consider a maid service,” Nikki suggested. “Have someone come by once a week, once a month—how long have you been in this house?” she asked suddenly, interrupting herself.

  His back to her, he poured the coffee into the two mugs. “A little more than a month.”

  “Once a week might be better,” she decided. Unattended, housework had a tendency to multiply geometrically. “That way, you don’t have to take away any time from your daughter to fight your way through the clutter and straighten up.”

  “Not a bad idea.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. The woman seemed to be on top of everything. “I suppose you have a list of available cleaning women, too.” It was more of a statement than a question.

  One day every two weeks, Nikki closed her office and donated her time at a free clinic, providing care for the babies of women—in some cases, girls who had barely reached puberty—who couldn’t afford to bring them to a doctor. Several of the women were looking for jobs. They were willing to take on any honest work because they had no special marketable skills.

  “As a matter of fact,” she replied, “I can give you the names of a couple or three.”

  “Who you could personally recommend?” he asked. He owned state-of-the-art computers, as well as equipment that helped him develop the software he marketed. He needed someone he could trust coming into his house, not someone he would have to watch. That defeated the whole purpose of hiring help.

  “As people, yes,” she said without hesitation. “But as far as the caliber of their work goes, I can only assume that they’d do an excellent job. I haven’t had the occasion to need their services myself.”

  Lucas brought over the two ten-ounce mugs and placed one in front of her. Backtracking, he took a container of flavored coffee creamer and put that next to her mug.

  “Why would you if you cleaned like this at home?” He saw no reason to go through the expense. “Sugar?”

  She shook her head. “This sweetens it enough,” she answered, picking up the creamer. She added a drop, then two, then more to the inky darkness, until she was satisfied. The coffee was now the color of extralight chocolate. And the creamer container felt a good deal lighter. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to take so much.”

  “After what you just did, you could have taken a cow and it wouldn’t have been too much—not that I don’t intend to pay you, I do. Whatever it comes to is fine with me.”

  Nikki shook her head in silent disapproval. “Never agree to something unless you know the bottom line ahead of time,” she warned him seriously. “My father taught me that one.”

  Lucas took a long sip of his coffee. That, too, made him feel a little more human. And awake. “Sounds like a smart man.”

  A fond, sad smile steeped in nostalgia curved her lips. “He was.”

  Lucas focused on the single crucial word. “Was?” he asked.

  She nodded. Both hands wrapped around the mug, she took another sip and waited for it to wind through her system, warming it. “My father died just before I turned twelve. That’s one of the reasons why my mother went to work full-time as a real-estate agent. “

  “Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to him to ask
about that. He was a product of the times. He’d grown up with women being part of the workforce without needing to give excuses or justify their reasons for working. Even Carole, who’d wanted nothing more than to be a mother, had thought about returning to work when their baby was old enough.

  Life was going to be perfect. Everything had been mapped out, he thought sadly. Except they hadn’t factored in the unpredictability of life and its tendency to throw those curveballs when least expected.

  But they weren’t talking about him, they were talking about Heather’s doctor, he reminded himself.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” And then he paused. “That doesn’t begin to cover it, does it?” he asked. He put himself in her position. “The words, they don’t seem like nearly enough.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. At times, ‘loss’ has a depth and breadth that seems as if it doesn’t have an end in sight. But life goes on, especially if you have a child.” She took one last sip, draining her mug and setting it down on the counter again. “My mother said I always kept her centered, even through the worst of times.”

  She pushed back her chair and rose. He was quick to get to his own feet. “Well, thanks for the coffee, but if I’m going to be any good to anyone tomorrow—” Nikki glanced at her watch and amended “—today, I’d better get going.”

  Lucas walked her to the door. She’d come here a stranger, but in these last few hours, she’d become so much more than that. He felt as if they’d spent half an eternity together. And that they’d connected during that time.

  “I don’t know what I would have done without you,” he told her quite honestly.

  At the door, she turned around to face him. “Survived, Mr. Wingate. You would have survived,” she assured him.

  “Lucas,” he prompted.

  Nikki cocked her head. “Excuse me?”

  “You came to my daughter’s rescue and saved my sanity. I think that entitles you to call me by my first name.”

  “All right, Lucas,” she allowed. “Bring Heather in on Thursday. Call Lisa for an appointment and tell her I want her to fit you in. We’ll see how that tooth of hers is behaving.”