On Mother's Day (Great Expectations #1) Read online

  “Oh, no.” He forced a smile to his lips. “I’m a full-service kind of guy. You see a puddle and I’ll be right there to throw my coat over it.”

  “But I thought you said—”

  “Hey.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Like you said, this has been a tension-filled day and you could have misunderstood any number of things. That’s why I’m supposed to stick with you.”

  “Lucky me.” Her eyes had brightened; a touch of color had come to her cheeks. Her head was turned up to look at him, her lips slightly parted.

  For the fleetest of moments, he was seized with a fierce desire to drink fully from those lips. He took a step back so that he had room to breathe, but not so far that he had to let go of her shoulders.

  “It’s just until things are settled,” he said.

  “I appreciate it.”

  “And well you should.”

  Her left eyebrow arched upward as she gave him one of her no-nonsense teacher looks, the one that said, I’ve seen every trick there is, buddy. He dropped his hands to his sides.

  “I mean, how many women wind up with an escort like myself? You know—handsome, witty, smart, and an allaround good-time guy.”

  “Very few, I’m sure,” she said.

  They fell into a silence, during which she stared at him and he searched her eyes to see how seriously she was taking him.

  “It’ll be like having your own personal slave,” he said.

  She continued looking at him, without even a hint of a smile cracking her face. Finally she said, “That could prove interesting.”

  Her voice had a low, husky tone that made his hands grow suddenly moist. “I guess I’d better get a lot of rest, then,” he said, before hurrying into the car.

  Except that he didn’t think he’d get much at all tonight.

  The next morning, Fiona stood on the corner with Alex, a stiff breeze at their backs, as they waited for the light to change. Michigan Avenue was such a fantastic street and it was a beautiful spring day. She took a deep breath of the crisp air. There was no reason for butterflies to be dancing in the pit of her stomach.

  Except that she was on her way to hopefully give her child life again.

  “Better hold on to me.” Alex took her arm and wrapped it around his own. “We don’t want to lose you. Not after all the work I put into getting you here.”

  She turned toward him, her hopes and fears mashing her mind into mush. “How am I going to get lost?” she asked. “I can see the hospital from here.”

  “I’m not worried about you getting lost,” he replied. “I just don’t want you to get blown away.”

  Her feelings took a sudden dive like a candy wrapper falling with the death of the wind. Memories of mockery danced in her mind and put an edge in her voice. “I’ve worried about lots of things in my life, Mr. Rhinehart, but never about blowing away.”

  The grin slipped off his face, his eyes going from sparkling to hurt, and Fiona was swamped with guilt. When they’d first met, she’d been put off by his sarcasm, but the more she got to know him, the more she saw it was only a shield.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m a little touchy about my weight.”

  “Why?”

  His non-understanding seemed genuine and Fiona just turned to look at the buildings towering over them. And then at the people, with eyes all shuttered and distant, who were rushing past them.

  How did one explain it? She’d lost a lot of weight after Kate was born, but in her mind, she’d always be that chubby little girl who was afraid no one liked her. The thin fashion models that dominated the magazine covers didn’t help. And neither did the bombardment of ads saying you had to exercise, not eat, and take pills to be a beautiful—another word for thin—woman.

  “You wouldn’t be beautiful if you were skinny.”

  She looked at him, searching his face for the hint of laughter that had to be there. But she found none. His dark eyes seemed warm and gentle. They made her uneasy and she forced a laugh.

  “Well, I’m not thin,” she said. “So I guess that makes me beautiful.”

  She laughed again, just to show that she knew this was all a joke, that neither of them was serious. But something in his eyes made the laughter die on her lips.

  “You are beautiful,” he said. “You’re just what a woman should be.”

  Everything retreated to the far edge of her world—the honking horns, the noise of the city street, the gusting winds. No man had ever called her beautiful. That warmth in his eyes seemed hotter, ready to burn her if she wasn’t careful.

  “I’m going to be late,” she murmured.

  Alex shrugged. “So what?”

  “I’m never late for my appointments,” she said, a nervous laugh bobbing in her throat.

  “Maybe you should be.”

  Fiona shook her head. “Maybe some other time. Not today.”

  He took her arm and led her across the street. Fiona thought he’d release her once they reached the other side, but he didn’t. He kept his mouth shut and her arm in his all the way to the hospital complex, not letting go until they were standing in front of a bank of elevators inside the lobby.

  “We’re going to meet the parents first.” He made a little face as if he’d tasted something just a bit sour. “I mean, the adoptive parents.”

  “They raised her, Alex. They are her parents.”

  He looked away, seeming ill at ease.

  “Hey,” Fiona said, shaking his arm. “Some kids have no parents. This kid’s lucky, she’s got three who care about her.”

  The elevator arrived and they stepped inside. The doors slid closed silently, meeting with a quiet kiss as the elevator began its race upward. Despite that, Fiona’s stomach climbed into her throat. Her mouth went so dry, the Sahara would be a rain forest in comparison. She’d come so far in the last eleven years, and now she was back at square oneterrified for this child she’d given life to.

  Then suddenly Alex was taking her band, offering her his strength to draw from. She dared not look at him, letting her eyes watch the floor lights above the door, but she was able to take a slow breath and then another. The slow steady beat of Alex’s heart forced hers to match so that when they got off, she was able to flash him a small smile. It would be all right.

  Alex led her down a long hallway lined with doors, then stopped and opened one. Fiona took a deep breath and stepped into the waiting room. A scattering of people sat reading magazines and only the receptionist looked up.

  “Alex Rhinehart and Fiona Scott,” Alex said. “We have an appointment with Dr. Sears.”

  “Oh, yes.” The receptionist looked at Fiona, her eyes both curious and sympathetic. “We were expecting you.”

  She led them to an inner office, standing back to let them enter. A couple was in the room—the woman staring out the window, the man at her side, his arm around her shoulder. Their sloping shoulders said worry and fear; but the arm around the shoulder said they were in it together. They turned from the window as the door closed behind Fiona and Alex.

  “Miss Scott?”

  The man was tall, balding, and wore glasses. His eyes said nothing but weary. The woman was also tall. Her brown hair was cut short, sprinkled with gray, and Fiona liked the fact that she didn’t feel the need to color it.

  “I’m Claire Andrews,” the woman said. “This is my husband, Don. We’re so grateful that you were willing to come.”

  Fiona nodded at the husband, but had no idea what to say. How could she not come? Kate was still her child, no matter who was raising her. No matter if Fiona never got to see her. Fiona had given her life.

  And would again, God willing.

  “I hope that I can help,” Fiona said.

  As if working from some unseen cue, they all sat downthe Andrewses on the sofa, Alex and Fiona in the chairs.

  “How is Kate doing?” Alex asked.

  “Fine,” Mr. Andrews said.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Andrews agreed. But their hands r
eached out for each other, clinging with obvious need.

  Fiona bit her lip. This was so hard on them. They’d adopted a baby and expected to be a real family. Now circumstances were forcing them to beg for her help.

  “Has she been sick long?” Fiona asked.

  Mrs. Andrews shook her head. “Even now, you’d hardly know she was sick. She tries so hard to…” The woman stopped as tears threatened to overcome her.

  Fiona turned to Mr. Andrews. “Do you have any other children?”

  “No. We were older when…when we adopted Kate.” He looked away for a long moment. The words came out slowly and painfully, like teeth being pulled. “Claire had two miscarriages before that.”

  “She’s all we have,” Mrs. Andrews said, her voice trembling.

  Fiona said nothing, but let her eyes wander over the Andrewses. She didn’t know much about suits and shoes and jewelry, but everything about the Andrewses said wealth. Money and the assuredness that came with it. Yet she didn’t for a moment doubt Mrs. Andrews’s words.

  “Fiona has an appointment with Dr. Sears after this,” Alex said. “Then she’ll have blood taken for the test.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Andrews said. “I guess it’ll take about three days before we’ll know.”

  “So long?” Fiona wanted the answers right away, wanted to be able to save Kate’s life now.

  “But we’d like you to stay here in town until we know,” Mr. Andrews said. “If you are a match, they’ll need to set up the time for the transplant.”

  “That’s fine,” Fiona replied. “It’s spring break now. I didn’t have much of anything planned.”

  “Kate’s kind of illness responds well to a bone-marrow transplant,” Mrs. Andrews said quickly. “The doctor said that she’ll be good as new with the right donor.”

  “Then we’ll have to find the right one,” Fiona said.

  Mrs. Andrews nodded, then they all slipped back into the pit of silence lying before them. There were so many things Fiona wanted to ask. What did Kate look like? Was she cursed with Fiona’s “chubby” genes? Did she like school? Was she good at sports like Cassie? Did she love chocolate like Samantha? Did she like to write? Fortunately she was rescued by a gentle knock on the door.

  A thin man in a gray hospital coat entered. “Hello.” He nodded at the Andrewses before turning to Fiona, his hand out. “I’m Dr. Sears.”

  Fiona stood and took his hand. “I’m Fiona Scott.”

  “I’m sure you must have a million questions,” the doctor said.

  Fiona shrugged. “A few.”

  “The first step is a blood test. From your end, no different than others you’ve had, but we’ll be comparing characteristics of your blood with those in Kate’s blood. We need a certain number of them to match to even consider the transplant.”

  “What are the chances I’ll be a good match?” she asked.

  He got the same look she’d seen on dozens of kids’ faces when they didn’t want to answer a question. “Better than finding a donor through the donor banks,” he said and moved toward the door. “If you’re ready, we’ll go down to my office where I can explain the procedures better. Then, if you’re still willing, we’ll need to give you a physical. If everything looks good, then we’ll draw the blood for the test.”

  Fiona took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  He opened the door and she started after him. At the door she turned. The Andrewses were watching, all their hopes written on their faces for the world to see. Alex was at her side.

  “Might as well walk you down,” he said. “Full service, remember?”

  Fiona nodded at the Andrewses, then slipped into the hall. By the time the door closed behind her, the doctor was already disappearing into a room down the short hallway.

  “Thank you,” she said to Alex, although the words seemed so inadequate for the strength he was giving her.

  “What for?”

  “For being here.”

  He pulled her into his arms for one blessed sweet moment and she felt her heart relax. She was so lucky to have had him here with her.

  “I’ll be here when you’re done,” he told her.

  She was glad. Everything seemed just a bit less overwhelming.

  Alex was back at the corner of Chicago and Michigan, glaring at the traffic. This area never had a rush hour; the traffic was congested all the time.

  The traffic light said to walk but Alex just stood there. He should get back to his office, but his feet just didn’t want to take him there. Hell, with his economical life-style, he could easily take a few years off.

  The light went to red again and he glanced at his watch. Maybe he should just give his answering service a call. Somebody might be looking for him.

  “The hell with it,” he muttered. Since he didn’t want to work, it was best not to call in.

  The traffic going north eased and, going against the traffic light, he dashed to the traffic island in the middle of Michigan Avenue. He paused there a moment before completing his dash to the west side of the street.

  Dr. Sears had said that Fiona would be tied up for a couple of hours. Alex decided to walk around the city until that time. The exercise would be good for him.

  As he walked south on Michigan, he glanced into the shop windows. Shoe stores, bookstores, clothing stores. The images came into his mind, then passed right on through, leaving no impression. His thoughts were on a good-looking lady he’d just left.

  He couldn’t believe how selfless she was. Not that selfishness was a virtue. But sometimes it was necessary for a person’s self-preservation. And right now, Fiona needed a good strong dose of “selfish” if she wasn’t going to get eaten alive.

  Well, if there was anyone around who could inject the necessary selfishness into the proceedings, it was him. He had enough “selfish” in his bones to furnish an army. That’s how things developed when you were a loner all your life. Maybe he should stick around a little longer, keep an eye on Fiona and make sure she wasn’t taken advantage of.

  He had no destination in mind but his feet kept him on the near north side of Chicago. Years ago this had been the city’s nightclub district. A few bars and clubs were still left but rising rents and gentrification had driven a lot of them out.

  Suddenly his eyes caught a sign up ahead. The French Pastry Shop. His stomach gave a rousing cheer and directed his feet into the bakery.

  It was getting late in the morning, but the noon rush was still an hour away. A number of clerks milled about behind the counters but they let him peruse in peace.

  He picked out a couple of double-chocolate doughnuts for himself pretty fast, but he had a harder time deciding on something for Fiona. He didn’t know what she liked, if anything. Maybe she hated sweets.

  He was about to give up when he saw some swan-shaped cookies. That was it. There was no way she’d turn them down.

  His certainty waned, though, as he hurried back to the hospital. He’d never been good at predicting a woman’s mood, and for some reason he really wanted to this time. He wanted to give her something she’d like. Something that would be special to her. He ate his doughnuts to settle his nerves.

  His stomach was still growling for more when he reached the hospital complex. He tried to ignore it as he rode the elevator up to the ninth floor and was surprised to see Fiona waiting when he stepped into the office.

  “I didn’t know you’d be done this soon,” he said. “Have you been waiting long?”

  “No.” She gave him a soft smile as she laid her magazine down. “Just a few minutes.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she said, standing. “You’re not my nanny.”

  Her courtesy annoyed him and he shoved the package at her. “I brought you a present.” He held his breath as she opened the package.

  “Oh, they’re wonderful!” she cried, and held one of the swan cookies up as if for everyone in the whole stupid world to see. “It’s like Romeo and Juliet wishing me
good luck.”

  Before he could do or say anything, Fiona kissed him on the cheek. It was just a quick peck, no big deal, but suddenly he felt a little shaky. Like he was coming down with the flu. But he didn’t think he needed to see the doctor. Maybe he ought to get his head examined, though, for staying around.

  “It’s just a couple of cookies,” Alex said with a gruffness that wasn’t in his heart. He took her arm. “Glad I didn’t buy you a cake.”

  Chapter Three

  Fiona took a deep breath to steady her nerves as Alex led her out of the hospital. She felt like a bungee jumper bouncing between tired, scared and hopeful. Or maybe she felt like the cord, wound tight and ready to spring. So much was happening, she barely could register half of it. Doctors, labs, diagrams of cross sections of bones, videos of doctors harvesting bone marrow from a donor’s hipbone, charts of bone marrow production. Fears, hopes and desperate prayers. And always someone asking if she was sure she wanted to go ahead with it, followed by an offer to say she wasn’t a good match if she wanted to back out.

  But how could she not give her child life, if the chance was offered to her?

  Alex seemed the only rock around to cling to, but that seemed hardly fair to him. This wasn’t his fight; it was just a job. Yet, when he brought her those swan cookies, she felt that he knew her, really knew her, and could see the dreams that were hiding deep in her heart—the dreams that the swans were magic and were somehow promising her love. Which was about as silly as dreams could get. Swans were just swans; big birds, nothing more.

  When Alex wanted to take her to lunch, she agreed, not because she wanted any, but because he was trying so hard to take care of her. So, clutching her little bag of swan cookies, she let him take her to a coffee shop down the street from the hospital. It was a noisy place, between the conversation of the patrons and the servers calling orders back to the cooks.

  “So how’d it go?” he asked, once the waitress had taken their orders.

  “All right.”

  She rubbed the inside of her elbow, but not because the spot hurt. In a way she was sorry—afraid—that the blood had been drawn. The die had been cast. There was nothing she could do now to make it right for Kate—an absolutely crazy thought. She couldn’t change her potential as a marrow donor by eating a different breakfast or wearing different clothes.