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The Doctor's Second Chance
Missy Tippens
The Bachelor's BabyJake West's troubled cousin leaves him with a most unusual parting gift–her newborn baby girl! And now the small-town contractor is forced to seek help from the very woman he resents–the new big-city pediatrician who practically stole his uncle's practice, Violet Crenshaw. Violet knows she shouldn't be consorting with the enemy. But she can't resist the adorable baby and her handsome new caretaker. Violet traded her chance at motherhood for her career years ago. But raising a family with Jake could be everything she's ever wanted.


The Bachelor’s Baby
Jake West’s troubled cousin leaves him with a most unusual parting gift—her newborn baby girl! And now the small-town contractor is forced to seek help from the very woman he resents—the new big-city pediatrician who practically stole his uncle’s practice, Violet Crenshaw. Violet knows she shouldn’t be consorting with the enemy. But she can’t resist the adorable baby and her handsome new caretaker. Violet traded her chance at motherhood for her career years ago. But raising a family with Jake could be everything she’s ever wanted.
The three of you make a beautiful family.
A knot formed in her throat. Ever since that stranger’s comment, she’d had to battle the thrill it brought.
The baby whimpered.
Time to forget her silly emotions and take care of Abigail. And make dinner for Jake.
Pressing her cheek to Abigail’s head, she inhaled her sweet smell. Longing tugged at her insides, and she had to tamp it back into the safe prison it had been in for years.
She’d just finished cooking and changed clothes when the front door opened.
“I’m home,” Jake called, his deep voice sending her stomach flying as if she’d reached the highest point of a Ferris wheel.
Jake stepped into the kitchen…and whistled.
“I’m glad you appreciate a home-cooked meal.”
His eyes swept her from head to toe. “I meant you, Violet. You look beautiful.”
Born and raised in Kentucky, MISSY TIPPENS met her very own hero when she headed to grad school in Atlanta, Georgia. She promptly fell in love and has lived in Georgia ever since. She and her pastor husband have been married for over twenty-five years and have been blessed with three children. After ten years of pursuing her publishing dream, Missy made her first sale to Love Inspired in 2007.
The Doctor’s
Second Chance
Missy Tippens


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
And we know that all things work together
for good to them that love God, to them
who are the called according to his purpose.
—Romans 8:28
To the talented and dedicated physicians who’ve cared for my children through the years.
To God, who is loving, patient and good.
Acknowledgments (#ulink_2986efa5-f758-592e-a0da-92eedb95729f)
Many thanks to my amazing
and generous Seekerville blog sisters
for helping me brainstorm this story!
Contents
Cover (#u7e870b75-3004-5183-8c96-92e9ab7f8b08)
Back Cover Text (#uc3a8d42d-8d89-51d4-bb6a-060e365d9d02)
Introduction (#uca969a5d-6542-5da2-99b5-30076bff234d)
About the Author (#u14c75bed-2aca-55f2-91b5-7c0452e22d64)
Title Page (#u2fbfbb44-322b-5a7b-8292-e335c2f51db8)
Bible Verse (#u0f2fab20-7e57-50bb-9405-6272ee54e8d8)
Dedication (#uc6334ac6-5530-5c70-8563-389258df62d5)
Acknowledgments (#u3aeee8d1-da2f-581f-99e1-91694fc0eb72)
Chapter One (#u01a9e7f3-b875-5733-98d0-ff8c8ed8add5)
Chapter Two (#u856e63a8-0ef3-571e-bfe0-92a3dc96853d)
Chapter Three (#ub0f13f16-edeb-575a-a193-118058b9eec6)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_336891a7-c99e-517a-a12d-b93fa9b0e94c)
Surely this isn’t happening.
A baby, its tiny lips puckered, slept in a car seat at Jake West’s feet. The child suddenly whimpered and jerked as if startled.
Jake’s insides jerked in response.
He dragged his gaze back to his cousin with her hair in a messy ponytail and no makeup. His heart banged against his ribs. “You can’t do this, Remy.”
With red-rimmed eyes, she stared at the baby.
Had she been crying or— “Are you high?”
She sighed. “No, I’ve been clean for a year.”
“Then come on, don’t be talking crazy.”
“You owe me, Jake.”
He’d heard those words the last time she’d popped into town—long enough to steal his wallet. “I don’t owe you anything.” His conscience pricked. Maybe he did. Maybe he was the whole reason for her problems.
A freebie diaper bag plastered with hospital and baby product logos slid down her shoulder. She plunked it on the floor, the gesture so final he flinched.
“You’re not leaving that baby here with me,” Jake said. “Take her to your parents.”
“No, I want you to raise her, and I put a letter in her bag saying so.”
A quick glance at Remy’s stomach showed her as thin as ever. “You are her mother...aren’t you?”
She nodded.
“And the father?”
“He died. No family.” She drew in a stuttering breath. “All her papers are in the bag, including a medical consent form.”
“Come on. Let’s sit down and talk this out. You have other options.”
One tear slid down her cheek, and she slapped it away, her expression remaining stony. “Don’t you dare let her down.” She glared at Jake, her eyes full of agony. “You’re the responsible one, the good kid, remember?”
Words his aunt and uncle, who’d raised him, had always said about him as they’d measured their rebellious daughter against his be-good-so-they’ll-keep-me behavior.
Remy reached out as if she wanted to touch her daughter but shoved her hands into the pockets of her wrinkled jeans instead, her gaze so full of longing it made Jake’s chest hurt.
“Come on, let me fix you some dinner,” he said, trying to sound friendly, upbeat. “I’ll make your favorite. We’ll talk.”
“You can’t make everything all better with a peanut butter and banana sandwich anymore, Jake. Now I need you to take care of her.”
“Come on, Rem.”
“Promise me.”
“Remy.”
“I mean it.” Desperation flashed in her widened eyes. “Promise.”
What could he do? Refuse? “I promise.”
She turned and strode out the front door and down the steps toward an ancient beat-up sedan.
The hot July sun on the western horizon forced him to shield his eyes. “Where are you going?” he called. “You need help, Remy.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m just not mother material.” She climbed in the car and started the engine.
Torn, he glanced back inside the house, afraid to leave the baby alone. He quickly went back to grab the carrier. By the time he made it outside, his cousin had peeled out of the driveway and sped down the street, too far away to catch the license plate number.
Tension in his neck sent throbbing pain to his head. With a palm mashed against his temple, he watched her vehicle slip into the distance.
He didn’t know a thing about babies. He had a construction company to run. Had to be on site the next day. Not a place for infants.
Loud squalling dragged his attention back to the child, her chin quivering, fists and feet pumping.
Yes, there was a nearly newborn baby in his grasp. A baby he was now responsible for. And she was crying her little head off, turning wrinkled and red.
“Lord, help me.” He headed back inside and set the carrier on the couch.
The little gal was buckled in some sort of car seat contraption with straps that looked like something from a race car. It took him a minute to figure out the harness. He finally worked her out of it and very carefully lifted her to his chest, gasping when he realized just how tiny she was. “You’re no bigger than a minute.”
She seemed so...breakable. As she cried, she rooted against his rough work shirt, dirty from the job site. He moved her to the crook of his arm, terrified he would lose his grip. Like holding a football, he reassured himself.
He rocked his arms a bit, and the crying stopped. She seemed to try to focus on his face, yet he wasn’t even sure she could see him.
Such delicate features. And that head full of wispy black hair so much like Remy’s made her seem even more vulnerable. His heart warmed. But fear, yes, fear prevailed. What would he do with a little baby?
“I don’t even know your name.”
With a mewl, she scrunched up her face again. Was she in pain? Was all this crying normal?
His heart jammed up in his throat. He needed help. Someone to check her out to make sure she was okay. Someone to tell him what to do—at least until he could track down Remy to insist she come back and get the baby.
Surely Remy would come back to get her daughter.
Think, Jake. Calm down and think.
First, the baby needed to be checked by a doctor. But Jake’s uncle, the town pediatrician, had recently sold the practice and was living in south Florida.
The new pediatrician? Jake hated to take his tiny charge to Violet Crenshaw. Just thinking her name made his blood pressure shoot up. The doctor had come in with her big-city lawyer, negotiating his uncle and aunt down to a rock-bottom price, practically stealing the struggling business from them at a time when they were worn down from dealing with Remy’s problems and disappearance.
The baby’s peeping threatened to turn to a wail. As he grabbed the diaper bag and dug through it looking for a bottle, his movements seemed to soothe her and stalled a full-blown fit.
Bouncing to keep her moving, he located several bottles. All empty. Then he discovered a can of formula. “Yes!” He shook it.
Powder?
The baby couldn’t drink powder, so was Jake supposed to add water or milk? And did he need to boil it first? He twisted the can to read the label.
Another mewl sounded, and then she revved up like a band saw.
The little thing sure had a set of lungs on her.
Was something hurting her?
Shoving aside resentment of the new pediatrician, he returned the child to her car seat and quickly rebuckled her. Slinging the diaper bag over his shoulder, he headed to his truck.
He opened the back door of the crew cab, set the carrier on the seat and tried over and over to figure out where the seat belt was supposed to attach. The car seat appeared to be yard-sale quality, scratched and tattered, and if there had ever been instructions, they were worn off.
Doing the best he could, Jake got the seat strapped in and prayed for a safe drive.
As much as it galled him, he needed Violet Crenshaw’s help. And badly.
* * *
Violet Crenshaw bid her assistant and receptionist goodbye and locked the door behind them. Then she stepped into her office, which was blessedly quiet, to enter figures into the computer. The tiny, utilitarian room hadn’t been updated in years, probably decades. Rickety metal desk, worn-out computer chair, plain two-by-four wooden shelves spray-painted and set on brackets, boring beige walls. Violet’s mother would have a conniption if she saw it. Would insist on calling in her favorite decorator to gut it and start fresh.
Of course, Violet’s mother wouldn’t see this office. Wouldn’t see her cute rental home, either.
Pushing away old hurts, Violet clicked numbers into the computer. Until business picked up, she was stuck with the 1990s decor. And it was not picking up as she’d hoped.
Looking at the stack of bills, she let out a heavy sigh. The flailing practice had been a bargain, but attracting new patients was tough for an outsider in a small town. Especially when unfounded gossip abounded, fueled by the nephew of the beloved previous owners who’d said she’d supposedly stolen the business from them.
She had made an offer she could afford, and it had been accepted. According to her lawyer, she’d paid a fair price. She clung to the belief her good reputation would overcome the talk.
Word-of-mouth recommendations would take time, though. She hoped she could make it that long financially because she loved taking care of children and building relationships in a solo practice. Loved the small-town feel of Appleton, Georgia.
She shut down her computer. Time to head home. Maybe she’d make some pasta for dinner. She could watch a movie or—
What was that pounding sound?
Stepping into the hallway of the old house-turned-office, she listened. Someone was banging on the front door. She hurried to unlock and open it.
A burly man in dirty work clothes stood with his fist poised to knock again. “Oh, good, you’re still here,” he said.
Recognition dawned. “You!” She scrunched her nose at Jake West, the man who’d single-handedly tried to make her arrival in Appleton a living nightmare. “What do you want?”
His scruffy, bearded jaw twitched as if he was clenching his teeth. Bright blue eyes narrowed.
Well, good. She hoped her attitude aggravated him. He deserved it for all the aggravation he’d caused her.
He inclined his head toward his truck. “I need your help. A baby.”
At the word baby, personal feelings fled, and she focused on the task at hand. Zipping over to the vehicle, she opened the door. “What’s wrong?”
“I have no clue.”
“Is she injured or sick?”
“I don’t think so. She’s crying a lot.”
“I need more than that to go on.” Incredulous, Violet jerked her gaze away from his wild-eyed baby blues. She unbuckled the seat belt from its unorthodox position and tried to untangle the car seat. “What on earth?”
“Let me get it,” he sniped.
“Fine. Come inside.” She marched ahead of him and waited, holding the door open.
He strode through the entryway, brushing against her, once again setting off her irritation.
“I’d heard you’re single,” she said. “When did you have a baby?”
He raised a brow. “I haven’t birthed a baby lately. She belongs to my cousin. I’m...uh...babysitting.”
Likely story, buddy. Probably some fling had landed him with this new responsibility. It would fit this rabble-rouser she’d had the displeasure of meeting.
“So why did you bring her to be seen?”
“I, uh...” He cleared his throat. “My cousin had to leave rather suddenly. I’d like to have the baby checked over to make sure she’s okay. To get some instructions on caring for her.”
Squinting, Violet gave him the once-over. “How do I know you didn’t take this baby?”
Anger flashed in his eyes, eyes that had just turned ice-cold. “You know my family. We don’t steal children.”
Fine. Of course they didn’t. But he was acting strangely. “Do you suspect the baby has been harmed or neglected?”
His steely gaze held hers, almost as if testing to see if she was trustworthy. “No. But since I don’t have experience with kids, I’d feel better if you’d check her. I have signed medical consent.”
Violet suspected there was a good bit more to this story of suddenly babysitting an infant who couldn’t be more than a week or two old. “Of course. Bring her back to an exam room.”
She turned on lights as she went. “Next time, please make an appointment.”
“Will do, if I have more than five minutes’ notice.”
As soon as Jake set the carrier on the examination table, the baby started to fuss.
Violet lifted her out of the seat, and the little one began to root against her chest. “Hungry, are we? Well, I’m sure your cousin Jake will get you a bottle ready while I weigh you.”
Jake froze, eyes wide, as if she’d blinded him with her otoscope.
“You do have a bottle for her, don’t you?”
He reached inside the diaper bag and pulled out a can. “There’s this powdery formula. And bottles.”
He sounded clueless. How would this child survive? How had his cousin dared leave the baby with him?
Violet huffed. “Go down the hall. There are samples of that exact brand in the storage closet on the right.”
“Yeah. I know where the sample closet is.”
Of course he did. He’d probably spent time in his aunt and uncle’s office.
While he was gone, she weighed and measured the baby girl, jotting the figures on the paper covering the exam table. “I’ll need to make her a file,” she called. “And I need that medical consent form. Do you happen to have any of her records with you?”
He lumbered into the room holding up a disposable, formula-filled bottle, smiling as if he’d discovered precious gold. “Yes, in her bag. I’ll find them.”
“What’s her name?”
With his back to her, he ignored the question and seemed to frantically search, tossing out diapers and wipes, empty bottles and clothes. At the bottom of the bag, he found a folder. “Here it is.”
She broke the seal off the bottle, popped the top and began to feed the hungry baby, who slurped down the food. As Jake flipped through the records, Violet headed to grab another bottle to send home with him.
Sweet blue eyes stared up at her before finally turning sleepy. Violet’s chest tightened.
Holding and feeding a precious baby never failed to open up old wounds, renewing the pain of having her own baby taken from her and put up for adoption by her parents.
Yet the opportunity reminded her that there were many children around town who needed a caring touch. Needed someone to look out for them.
“She’s falling asleep.” Violet put the baby to her shoulder and patted her back. “Be sure you always burp her like this after you feed her.”
Once the baby belched, she returned her to the exam table. “I’ll do a quick check and then she can have a nap in her car seat.”
Violet glanced at Jake. He was watching every move she made, his eyes taking it all in like a first-time parent overwhelmed by a new life depending on him, afraid he’d do something wrong. She couldn’t help but smile as she examined the baby’s ears. “You never told me her name.”
* * *
Jake’s brain nearly buzzed. How could he tell this doctor that he had no idea what the child’s name was? A child in his care.
He and Dr. Crenshaw were already adversarial. And now he was going to have to admit he had no contact information for the mother. No baby name. No father’s name. No mother’s address. Nothing but a copy of hospital records from Atlanta labeled Baby Girl West. He assumed Remy had filled out a birth certificate application, so surely the girl had a legal name.
What about those papers she mentioned?
One last, frantic flip through the documents in the bag revealed a folded copy of the birth certificate paperwork crammed between two folders along with the medical consent to treat form. When he read the name on the form, Jake sucked in a breath.
Remy had named the girl after his mother.
“Abigail,” he choked out. “Her name’s Abigail.”
As the doctor continued the exam, Jake wondered at Remy’s intentions for the girl. Had she planned all along for Jake to raise Abigail? Or had the decision been sudden, born out of desperation?
“Ears look good.” Violet warmed the stethoscope and listened to the baby’s chest and back. “Heartbeat and lungs are perfect.”
With her short, wavy black hair, cut so that it flipped some at the ends, Violet looked too young to be a doctor. But despite the hair, her big, serious hazel eyes and white lab coat made her a convincing professional.
She glanced at the baby’s belly and poked around. “Umbilical cord has already fallen off. Healed nicely. She seems to be in good health.”
Relief swept through him. At least Remy had been taking good care of her.
“What’s her birth date?”
That info he did have. “She was born on the Fourth of July.”
Dr. Crenshaw pulled a sheet of paper out of a file folder and charted the weight on a graph. “Two weeks old. She’s at the fiftieth percentile. Weight, length and head circumference look good. And I also need her last name.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, frustration seemed to spark at his inability to focus and communicate basic facts.
The baby looked groggy, her belly full, content. His earlier panic inched down a notch. “Abigail West.” He glanced again at the form, his chest tightening. Remy had given the girl his dad’s middle name—which was also Jake’s middle name. “Abigail Lee, L-e-e, West.”
“Thank you,” the pediatrician mumbled, her tone adding an unspoken finally as she filled in the blanks on some sort of form.
She probably questioned his mental faculties. He was beginning to wonder himself. “Here’s that medical release form from her mother. Do you have some kind of booklet on basic infant care? I wasn’t sure about whether to boil the water or use milk for the formula. Or how to sterilize the bottles—or if I even need to. That kind of thing.”
“Don’t give her cow’s milk yet. Here.” She wrapped the baby up like a burrito and leaned close to set her in his arms. As she did, the doc’s short, flippy black hair caught on his beard and tickled his chin.
“I’ll go make Abigail’s file,” she said. “You should probably change her diaper so she’ll take a nice long nap for you.”
Diapers. There would be lots of messy diapers in his near future. The thought nearly made him wretch.
“You have changed her diaper, haven’t you?”
“No.”
“Ever changed any diaper?”
“No.” His incompetence had been revealed. Could she report someone for being an inept babysitter?
She simply sighed. “Sounds like you need a crash course.”
“I do. Would you be willing to come home with me to help get Abigail settled? I’ll pay you whatever you’d bill for, what? Four appointments in an hour? Six?”
“Do you have a friend you could ask?” Her hazel eyes were serious, concerned, as if she feared he didn’t have any friends. Which only showed she must think the worst of him. Still, for some reason, he found the concern endearing.
Caution, Jake. No matter how cute she looks with her feathery hair and big serious eyes, this conniving woman took advantage of Aunt Edith and Uncle Paul. “No, I don’t have anyone else to ask. The older ladies in my church may not know the current child-rearing recommendations. I don’t know the young moms well enough to ask a favor. And the women I’ve dated...well, none of them would be good with kids.”
She gave a derisive snort. “Not dating the maternal type, huh?”
No, his dates were more into skydiving or mountain climbing than children. But he wasn’t going to stoop to answer her snooty question. She could think badly of him all she wanted. He didn’t value her opinion unless it had to do with Abigail. “I’ll pay you. Just name your price.”
“My price? Quit bad-mouthing me to people in town.”
Stunned by her bluntness, he huffed. “I’ve only spoken the truth.”
“There’s no way you know every detail of the contract negotiations. Get the facts straight before you start smearing someone’s reputation.”
Oh, he knew all about the contract negotiations between her and Paul and Edith—and how she’d found fault with the way the business had been run, had brought in her expensive Atlanta lawyer to do her bidding. Jake even knew the final sale price—which he thought entirely too low for something his aunt and uncle had built for decades, since before Jake’s parents died.
Looking around the room at the same child-friendly posters and colorful furniture his aunt and uncle had lovingly put in place made him sad. Jake wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t let the doctor from the huge city clinic come in acting as if his family were bumpkins, and taking advantage of them, without repercussions.
Despite his opinion of her, though, he needed her help. For the baby’s sake. “Will you please help me with Abigail?” The words grated in his throat, nearly choking him.
She stared into his eyes until the moment became uncomfortable. Briefly, he thought he saw pain, but then the pediatrician snatched a diaper out of the bag. “Helping you set up for a baby is not something I can bill as a medical service.”
“I’ll pay you directly, like a babysitting subcontractor.”
“I’ll give you an hour.”
The tension in his shoulders relaxed as he laid Abigail on the exam table. “Thank you.”
Violet made quick work of the diaper, so smoothly the little gal barely stirred from her sleep. “I’ll teach you to do this on her next diaper change.”
Once she was done, she handed the baby back to him. He gently buckled her into her car seat, even managing not to wake her. Maybe he’d get the hang of this temporary fatherhood job after all.
As he lifted the carrier, Abigail suddenly cried out as if in some sort of pain.
“Did your cousin happen to mention the baby being colicky?” the doc asked over the screeching cries.
He swung the car seat back and forth, trying to soothe her. “No.”
“This might be a long few nights for you, Jake.”
Few nights? If only...
“That diaper bag is all I have,” he said. “I guess I need to stop and buy some supplies on the way home.”
“I don’t mind picking up the basics for you before I come over.”
“But—”
“You can pay me back later.”
Before he could refuse, she said, “I heard you moved into your aunt and uncle’s house. I’ll be there shortly.” She was no-nonsense, used to being obeyed. She breezed out of the room, presumably to show him out.
When they reached the front door, she unlocked it and held it open.
“I appreciate it.” With a nod, he headed out, his tiny second cousin or cousin-once-removed or whatever she was to him blasting his ears.
“Come on now, Abigail,” he cooed in his best soothing voice, a tone he didn’t even know he could make.
He lifted her carrier to the truck’s backseat. Once again, he struggled to buckle the car seat in place.
“How about I show you how to do that?” Violet said from behind him.
When he agreed, she made her way between him and the truck, spun the car seat around backward and scooted it to the middle seat belt. “Infants this age must be rear-facing. And there’s supposed to be a base that stays in your vehicle that the seat latches into. Until you buy a new one, which I recommend, the strap goes through here.” She pointed to a slot on the back. With the seat facing the correct direction, the seat belt easily slipped through and locked Abigail in place.
“Now that makes perfect sense,” he said with a laugh. “Should have thought of it myself.”
Violet turned and faced him, looking satisfied. She was so close the evening sun reflected off flecks of gold in her eyes.
He stepped back, allowing her to slip past him. She did so quickly and darted toward the office building, as if anxious to get away.
He felt almost guilty for the things he’d thought and said about her. Almost. “Thank you, Dr. Crenshaw. I know you didn’t have to do all this, to go the extra mile.”
She stiffened as if surprised and glanced at him over her shoulder. “My purpose in life is to help children, Mr. West.”
Of course she wasn’t acting out of kindness toward him. But he could live with that.
With a nod, she stepped inside and shut the door.
Hoping the sound of the engine might help lull Abigail to sleep, Jake hopped in and started the truck. By the time he’d driven halfway home, she had quieted.
Thank You, Lord.
Now, if You’d just help me find a way not to alienate the doc before Remy gets back, I’d be doubly grateful.
Chapter Two (#ulink_a1631894-66a1-5768-a021-a90de496ce7e)
Violet walked up to the front door of the cute, brick Craftsman-style bungalow with its perfectly landscaped and manicured lawn. The West home backed up to her tiny rental house. Literally. Nothing but a low row of hedges separated their backyards.
The huge front porch with a swing and window boxes cascading with petunias invited her to come sit a while. Exactly the feeling she’d dreamed about having in a small town. If only she could find time to make some friends.
Holding three bags of newborn necessities in her left hand, she rapped on the door with the other. Time to show this clueless man how to take care of his baby cousin.
Jake opened the door, his broad shoulders and husky physique filling the space, making her stomach flutter.
No, no fluttering allowed.
“Hey, come on in,” he said as he reached for the bags with strong arms. “Let me take those.”
He appeared to be six-one or six-two, maybe two hundred twenty-five pounds. A large man, built of solid muscle without a pinch of fat.
“Thanks, but, uh...” Focus. “There’s more in the car. I left it open for you.”
“Got it. You can head on back to the kitchen.”
She stepped inside and passed through a well-used living room fitted with older, broken-in furniture. Abigail slept soundly in her carrier on the worn tweed couch. Violet kept going until she found the kitchen and then began to unload the bags.
The outdated furnishings, which must have belonged to Edith and Paul West, lent a homey feel, something her parents’ home had lacked because her mother hired a decorator to redo the house every few years.
A small, drop-leaf breakfast table by the window, however, looked new. On it sat an opened newspaper beside a laptop computer. Discarded after breakfast or when his cousin showed up needing a babysitter?
Other than the newspaper, everything was in its place, neat as a pin, and wasn’t at all what she would picture for a busy bachelor. Surprisingly, the rooms felt welcoming.
For some reason, the tidy, cozy home didn’t fit with Jake’s overgrown, wavy brown hair, closely trimmed beard and rugged, mountain-man looks.
Shaking her head, she laughed. What had she expected? A tent and camping stove?
“Disposable diapers,” he declared as he entered the room and plopped the bags on the counter. “Lots of diapers. Enough to single-handedly overload the county landfill.”
“Abigail will use all of those in about a week.”
“No kidding?” He tucked all but one of the packs in the pantry. “Guess I need to practice changing her, but I hate to wake her.”
“We can work on the feeding first.”
She pointed to a case of already-prepared formula. “I figured you’d rather splurge on ready-to-feed formula instead of having to mix the powder.”
“Good call.”
She held up a carton and gave instructions on how to heat it.
He pulled bottles out of the diaper bag. “These are the ones Remy sent.”
Examining their condition, Violet wrinkled her nose. One was coated with the curdling remnants of formula. The nipples looked worn. Too worn, as if Remy had gotten them as hand-me-downs. “You know, I think since you don’t know where these have been, we’ll boil them first. And we can throw some of them away. I bought a few new ones.”
His expression hardened. “My cousin may not have the best of everything, but I don’t think she would expose her baby to unsanitary conditions.”
Spoken as if he thought Violet was used to having the best of everything. The fact he must think her haughty nipped at her conscience. How many times had she been mortified by her mother’s snobbish actions? She’d vowed never to have that same attitude.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. But nipples do wear out and tear, which could choke the baby. We have to be careful.”
With tense shoulders easing, he let out a breath. “Okay.”
“We also need to boil the new bottles and nipples before the first use. Do you have a large soup pot we can use?”
He opened cabinet after cabinet, searching. The man was obviously a bachelor because the shelves were mostly empty.
“Found this.” He pulled out a pan that was big enough to heat a can of soup.
“You don’t cook, huh?”
“I know how, but I’m not here much. I make sandwiches for lunch and give Edna a lot of business at the diner.”
“I’m glad I brought you a case of sample bottles to get you through until you can buy a larger pan.” She couldn’t help but wonder at how much sense his cousin, Remy, had to leave a baby here.
Pulling out an informational brochure she’d brought with her, she showed him how to clean bottles with the brush she’d purchased and how to use the dishwasher for future washings. He seemed to be taking in all the information and even jotted notes.
Satisfied, she pulled out the baby monitor she’d picked up at the hardware store. “Now, you’ll need this so you’ll hear Abigail when she cries during the night.”
The wary look on his face was comical. He had no idea how his life was about to change.
“I guess she needs a room. And a crib.”
Violet’s stomach sank. “You mean you don’t have a place for her to sleep?”
“Well, there are two extra bedrooms,” he sputtered, looking offended. “I had no notice about Remy dropping off the baby.”
She wouldn’t ask more questions and risk him getting his back up. “Don’t put her in your bed. Just remove the comforter, pillows and blankets and put her on the guest bed for tonight. Tomorrow, you can buy a crib. Since it’s short-term, a portable one will be fine.”
At his look of further confusion, she let out a sigh. “Can I use your computer? I’ll show you the items you’ll probably need to buy.”
He pointed her toward the table. “Good idea. Will you listen for Abigail while I go change out of my work clothes?”
“Sure.”
While he banged around in a nearby bedroom, Violet carried the laptop to the living room, where the baby was sleeping. She pulled up the website for a local discount store and put a fairly long list of items in the shopping cart.
Down the hallway, water ran for a few minutes. Before long, Jake showed up with wet hair and wearing jeans and a cottony soft T-shirt, smelling clean and way too appealing.
She popped up off the couch. Handed over the laptop. “Here, I put some things in your shopping cart. Figured you could print and take it with you to the store tomorrow. Travel bed, sheets, portable changing station, more bottles, diaper disposal system, baby bath tub and bathing essentials.”
His face scrunched in disgust. “Diaper disposal system?”
“Yes. To help with odors.”
“Oh, man.” He raked a hand through his hair, leaving brown strands standing up. “How am I going to bathe her? I’ve never even seen someone do that.”
She fought the urge to smooth his disheveled hair back into place. “You’ll figure it out. Watch a YouTube video or something.” She glanced at her watch. “Well, my hour will be up soon, and I haven’t had a chance to show you how to change a diaper.”
“Deserting me already?” He laughed, but she could see worry in the squint of his eyes and crease in his forehead.
“That was our agreement.” She picked up the diaper bag and looked inside. “Is this everything Remy left with you?”
“It is.”
Violet pulled out a receiving blanket. “I’ll show you how to swaddle her so she feels more secure. Once you purchase a crib, always lay her on her back to sleep. And never put anything else in the crib with her.”
His cell phone rang as he nodded. “I’ve got to take this call. It’s work.” Striding toward to the kitchen, his deep voice carried to the living room. He was not happy. Something about a load of floor tile not being delivered as promised.
“No, that’s unacceptable,” Jake said. “I want it there tomorrow morning by nine.”
Abigail woke and began to fuss. Violet took her out of her seat. “Hey, sweet girl. Jake’s busy right now, so it’s just you and me.” The baby was warm and had that wonderful baby shampoo smell. However, her diaper weighed a ton.
The phone conversation ended and footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor.
“Okay, girlfriend,” Violet said to Abigail. “I have to warn you. It’s time for Jake’s first ever diaper change. Cut him some slack, okay?”
When she looked up, Jake stood in the doorway, a half smile on his face. “No need to warn her of my ineptitude. She’ll know soon enough.”
Though he was kidding, there was an edge of truth in what he said. He truly was in over his head.
Unfortunately, he might not fare well, and she worried about Abigail. Maybe she should check in on her tomorrow.
No, that wasn’t her place. It wasn’t as if Remy or Jake was a personal friend.
Once Violet set up a makeshift diaper-changing area on the dresser, she showed Jake how to clean Abigail, slip a disposable diaper under her bottom and fasten it. Then she had him give it a try.
The first attempt left him chuckling. Despite Violet covering her mouth, a laugh slipped out.
He truly was pathetic at diapering.
“How’s that?” he asked after his second attempt. The diaper was mostly straight but was extremely loose.
Looking into his hopeful eyes, she felt a thread of connection that gave the tiniest of tugs on her heart. She could not afford a thread of anything with this man who claimed she was a shady person and felt free to share that opinion around town.
“I’m afraid that will leak,” she said, refocusing on the task at hand. “Try to fasten it tighter. It won’t hurt her or cut off her circulation. It’s stretchy.”
Biting his lip while concentrating, he jumped in once again like a good student, determined to succeed. But this time Abigail started to fuss. “Uh-oh. I’ll never manage this with her wiggling.”
“She’ll always wiggle, so you may as well learn to deal with it.”
“Man, the doc is harsh,” he mumbled into the baby’s ear.
Violet caught herself smiling. “Hey, I can show you harsh by walking out right now.”
“I take it back. Now...I’m trying again.” Once, twice, he made the diaper too loose. The third time, he sighed. “This one’s too tight.”
“Wait.” Violet ran a finger along the waist and leg holes, checking. “That’s perfect. You did it!” She applauded him before she thought better of it, but then reined in her excitement, her face heating.
“Now who’s inept?” Jake grinned, eyes gleaming with victory. “I’ll be teaching a parenting class before you know it.”
At his proud look and touch of humor, her breath gave a little hitch. She should not let his funny side affect her.
“Nice job,” she said as she checked her watch. “Oh, look. My hour is up. I jotted a suggested feeding schedule and left it on your kitchen counter. Call my assistant tomorrow if you have questions.”
In other words, don’t call me.
“Time’s up already?” He carefully tucked Abigail in the crook of his arm, becoming a regular pro at carrying her.
Violet had always had a weakness for a big strong man holding a baby. How different might her life have been if she’d fallen for someone strong and responsible all those years ago?
“The receipt for the baby items is also on the kitchen counter,” Violet said. “You can mail a check to my office.”
“What’s your charge for the hour of training?”
Lifting her chin, she focused on Abigail. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, I insist.”
“Consider it a favor for a new patient.”
His brows drew downward, and he looked uncomfortable. “We had an agreement. It’s been worth every penny I owe you.”
She couldn’t bring herself to ask for money for doing a task she had enjoyed. Besides, it would only add to his image of her being mercenary. “Instead, make a donation to your favorite charity for children.”
“That’s generous of you.”
Her heart raced as hope shot through her. Hope that maybe he would believe she hadn’t ripped off his aunt and uncle and that she was a decent person.
She grabbed her purse and headed toward the front door.
Close on her heels, he followed. “I’ll mail you a check tomorrow. Thank you for buying the baby stuff and for coming over. I owe you a favor.”
She could imagine how it pained him to say that. “You don’t owe me anything. I like to think I can make a difference in the community. Like your aunt and uncle did.”
He nodded but didn’t comment. She couldn’t help but wonder if he considered her a poor substitute. Sure, they hadn’t known how to run a business well. But they’d taken good care of the local children for a long time, had been loved by the Appleton residents.
Would she ever feel as if she had a place in the town?
“I guess I’ll see you around, Dr. Crenshaw,” he said.
“Yes, and if Abigail is still in town in two weeks, be sure to schedule an appointment for her next vaccination.”
“Oh, I’m sure Remy will take care of that.”
“Well, good night. I hope you get some sleep.”
She truly did hope he had a good night. For Abigail’s sake. Yet she couldn’t help but worry about the tiny, dependent girl. How would she fare with this man who had absolutely no experience dealing with infants?
The insecurity on Jake’s face, as well as the fact Abigail looked so vulnerable in his arms, made Violet’s decision.
To ease her mind and ensure the baby was thriving, she would check on Abigail over the weekend.
* * *
Jake sat in his truck Saturday morning rubbing red, scratchy eyes and trying to read the directions for the soft baby carrier he’d bought first thing that morning as he’d learned his way around the baby section of the local discount store. Abigail had spared him and slept in the cart through the whole shopping trip.
Probably because she’d cried late into the night.
After nearly four hours of inconsolable crying, he’d looked up colic on the internet and thought that must be what she had because she didn’t seem sick otherwise. Still, if she had another night like the last, he’d take her to the doctor to be on the safe side.
With the fabric carrier assembled, adjusted to fit and strapped on him, Jake climbed in the backseat and lifted Abigail from her car seat. Then he followed the step-by-step, very complicated directions for slipping her into the fabric that would hold her against his chest, kind of like a reverse backpack.
As he was hooking one of the head supports, her little body slipped sideways, about stopping his heart. He quickly stabilized her head and snapped the buckle into place. Assured she was peacefully snoozing and wouldn’t fall out of the contraption, he climbed out of the truck, hoping he could work awhile.
His flooring subcontractor, Zeb, a trim man in his sixties wearing jeans and an old blue work shirt, stood at the front of the brick ranch home they were building with his arms crossed, waiting.
“Hey, Zeb. Sorry again about the tile delivery. Pete assured me he’d have it here by nine this morning.”
“We can’t finish as promised if he doesn’t. I’ve already lost a day.” Zeb’s eyes narrowed as he spotted a tiny head peeking out of the carrier contraption. “Uh, congratulations?”
“She belongs to Remy. I’m babysitting.”
A big breath of air whooshed out of him. “That’s good. Was afraid I’d missed something big.”
Jake pressed fingers against his burning eyes. “Had a rough night. She cried for hours.”
“Lots of prayer going on in the West household, huh?”
“You know it. More like begging for mercy.” He laughed. “You know anything about colic?”
“Can’t say that I do.” Zeb squinted into the late-morning sun. “Except I remember one of my girls had luck by changing her baby’s formula.”
Jake nodded. Zeb had kids and grandkids, so Jake could trust parenting tips from the man. “Have you been inside? Did my cabinets get delivered?”
“Not yet. The guys are still taping and muddin’ drywall and priming.”
Jake needed to go inside, make sure everyone was on schedule and the work met his expectations. But a work site wasn’t the place for a baby. “If Pete isn’t here in fifteen minutes, I’ll call him.”
“Thanks, Jake. We’ll do a good job for you.”
“You always do.” He only hired top-notch subcontractors, and Zeb and his crew were the best around.
Jake made a phone call, and as soon as he hung up, Abigail began to stir. She’d be hungry when she woke. She’d also need a fresh diaper...or two or twenty.
There was no way he’d be able to work while caring for a baby. He needed to find child care, and quickly.
Turning to go to the truck, he spotted Violet’s shiny, older model luxury convertible pulling in behind his vehicle. She’d either had it for several years or had bought it used. Either way, he had to admit she might have a good head on her shoulders. Well, except for the brand-new, very expensive tires.
“Oh, hello,” she said as she climbed out.
“Hey.” Had she been out for a Saturday drive and just happened to spot him? Or had she come to check up on Abigail?
The latter was the more likely scenario.
Wearing shorts and a flowery pink top, Violet looked like a breath of fresh air. Her mile-long, shapely legs caught the attention of a few of his men watching from the garage area.
Jake put himself between them and Violet, blocking their view. “I was just headed to change Abigail and get a bottle.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
Would Violet hang around? Jake had parked in the shade and planned to change Abigail’s diaper right there in the truck. Violet better not breathe down his neck and complain about his decision. He had to do a decent job with the diaper, though, or else Abigail would be strapped to his chest, a loaded weapon ready to wreak havoc.
By the time he’d laid the baby on a changing pad placed on the vehicle seat, she was fully awake.
Violet peeked around his shoulder. “Looks like that diaper’s on pretty good.”
“Yep.”
“So I guess you don’t need any help with the clean one.”
“Nope.” He successfully changed her despite the tense woman watching. When Abigail fussed, he popped a bottle in her mouth and tucked her in the crook of his arm.
“How did she sleep last night?”
“Not well. I’ll bring her by the office if we continue to have problems.”
“Problems? What type of problems?” Violet asked, going from the diaper police back to pediatrician.
“She cried from eight until nearly midnight. I think she has colic.”
“Well, there are several things you can try, like—”
“Thanks, but I read about it on the internet. Got some ideas.” He nodded toward town. “And I bought your whole list of baby stuff, so we’re good to go.”
The Pete’s Flooring truck arrived with the tile as Abigail slurped down the formula.
“Excuse me a minute.” Jake strode across the lot.
Happy and bright-eyed, Abigail let the nipple slip out of her mouth. He tucked the bottle in his front pants pocket. Abigail watched him as he directed Pete where to drop off the tile. While Pete’s men unloaded the pallets, the truck with the kitchen cabinets arrived.
“Jake, do you want me to hold her?” Violet called as she picked her way across the muddy expanse of the future front lawn.
“Hang on just a minute.”
Needing to direct the second delivery, and hoping to prove to the doc that he could take care of his baby cousin, Jake safely tucked Abigail in the carrier against his chest, talking sweetly to her in a voice that no longer felt strange. A couple of his men snickered.
Ignoring them, he pointed the second group of deliverymen toward the garage. Once they finished unloading, they started backing out, nearing Pete’s truck.
“Whoa!” Jake rushed over, waving his arms to stop the collision.
Startled by his voice and sudden movement, Abigail shrieked, her arms and legs flailing. He quickly soothed her, patting and cooing.
Jake finally sent the cabinet truck on its way, then turned and found Violet standing at the front of the house watching him. Frowning.
She glared at the mess of scraps and tools around them. “This isn’t an appropriate place for a two-week-old baby. You’re going to have to make other arrangements or—” She huffed.
Or what? he wanted to say but didn’t dare challenge her in the situation. He’d already come to the same conclusion himself.
“This isn’t a normal day,” he said instead. “I’m still juggling, trying to figure out my new schedule with Abigail. I just dropped by to check on the tile delivery.” Mainly, he needed to get through his first full day with a baby.
Today, on four and a half hours of sleep, he’d bought baby equipment and supplies, changed several diapers, fed her two bottles and coaxed three burps. He’d even managed to keep Abigail alive. That victory must count for something.
He probably deserved a medal.
Violet stood looking at him as if he was a nail in one of her four-hundred-dollar tires.
He walked away before he said something rude.
Close on his heels, she followed, her spotless white flip-flops getting mired in mud. He stopped and turned.
Looking at her feet, she didn’t notice his sudden change in direction and barreled into him. Slowly, she looked up, frustration flashing in her pretty eyes. “This place is too hazardous for a baby.”
“You’re more at risk in your open-toed shoes than a baby is tucked against my chest.” The chest Violet stood literally six inches from. “So did you come just to see if I had Abigail with me?”
“I happened to be out. Saw your truck. Thought I’d stop by and see if she needs anything.”
He narrowed his eyes. “More likely, you wanted to make sure she survived the night.”
She jammed her hands on her khaki-clad hips, a perfect warrior pose, cheeks bright red, sparks of fury in her brownish-green eyes. “Okay, you want the brutal truth? I doubt you’re prepared to take care of a baby this young.”
“Ah, so you’re capable of honesty after all. Who would’ve guessed?”
“At least I’m not being nasty, judging you on something I know nothing about.”
Zeb stepped around the corner of the house to see what the commotion was about. Jake waved him off. He didn’t need the man asking questions about him and the new pediatrician.
Violet didn’t flinch at the interruption. Didn’t seem to care they had an audience. She glared at him, ready to battle it out.
He wouldn’t back down, either. “Abigail is fine. Check her out if you want.”
The offer knocked her back a step. With an irritated huff, she peeked at the baby. “I see you bought a carrier. And you appear to have it attached correctly.”
“I can read directions, you know.”
She worked her hands around the edges of the fabric, feeling for all Abigail’s body parts. “You seem to have her in a good position. She looks comfortable.”
Dr. Crenshaw was so close her hair brushed his chin again. Though he’d expect her to smell like a doctor’s office—of sick people and disinfectant—she actually smelled good, like flowers mixed with something fresh and clean.
When she looked up, her eyes met his and widened. The tiny flecks of light gold around her pupils made her look young, vulnerable.
But Violet Crenshaw was not some delicate creature. Hadn’t she just proven it by charging into his job site with both barrels loaded?
She cleared her throat and stepped away.
What had made her change from last night, when she’d been helpful? Was it all because he’d yelled to stop a collision and made Abigail cry? He stepped around Violet to head to the truck. “See you around, Doc.”
She looked annoyed that he’d cut her off. But he’d had enough. Tomorrow at church he would find someone else who could help him. Preferably someone who had experience with a colicky child. Someone who didn’t have gorgeous legs, who didn’t look at him all innocent and vulnerable, twisting his insides into a knot.
Thankfully, the pediatrician didn’t go to Jake’s church. If all went well with Abigail, he wouldn’t have to see Violet again before Remy returned.
* * *
What in the world am I doing?
Meddling.
But that wasn’t the whole truth. She was also there as the result of a nudge from her conscience...or maybe from God?
Violet drew in a slow, deep breath the way she usually did to calm and center herself before walking into the room of a new patient. Only today, instead of an exam room, she walked inside the Appleton Community Church.
She’d awakened early, worried about Abigail West and feeling that nudge. After her morning run, she decided maybe it was time to go back to church—to Jake’s church. She hadn’t attended regularly since high school. Had thought when she moved to Appleton six months ago that she might visit as a way to meet people. But instead, she’d spent her Sunday mornings either doing rounds at the hospital or relaxing and reading the newspaper, afraid God might not welcome her after she’d pushed Him away for so long.
Well, she hoped God would be okay with her returning. And hoped Jake would show up with Abigail so Violet could check on them.
After the way he got defensive yesterday when she asked about the baby, maybe it was time to suggest he find someone else who could offer advice, someone who could help him with child care. Possibly an older teenager or college student in the church or another parent. Surely someone in this congregation would be willing.
Yes, she was definitely meddling. Still, she wouldn’t rest until she knew Jake and Abigail were in good hands.
Violet stepped through the door into the back of the sanctuary. The space was small but beautiful. She stopped and admired the colorful stained glass windows depicting parts of the Bible, stories she’d read as a child each night as her mother or, more often, one of the nannies tucked her in.
Having arrived a bit early, Violet found the crowd was sparse. She’d hoped to run into someone she knew. Instead, she glanced around at strangers, her stomach a tense mass of nerves. She didn’t really know anyone well in Appleton, although she had met a few people when she attended the church’s fund-raising auction for the Food4Kids program back in the spring.
Violet had bid on and won a trip to a lake house that belonged to two local families. She was acquainted with the daughters of one of the owners. Darcy O’Malley worked in the hospital lab, and they had chatted a few times when Violet dropped by the lab on weekends. She’d later met Darcy’s sister, Chloe O’Malley, at her clothing boutique, Chloe’s Closet. Maybe one of them would show up for the service.
Violet scanned the sanctuary looking for Grace Hunt, a kind grandmotherly woman who had dropped by to welcome Violet to town when she’d moved in. Grace had invited Violet to the church on several occasions, so surely she would be here today.
At least Violet would know someone besides Jake.
“Hello. Welcome.” An elderly man in gray slacks, a navy blazer and a red striped tie approached with his hand extended. “I’m Ted Greer, pastor of the church. You’re the new pediatrician, aren’t you?”
Shaking his hand, she smiled. “Yes. Violet Crenshaw. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to visit.”
His kind eyes warmed. “We’re glad you’re here now. Do you work on Sundays?”
“I’m usually on call. I should probably apologize ahead of time. I occasionally may have to leave in the middle of the service.”
“That’s no problem at all. We’d love to have you whenever possible. Maybe next week you can come an hour earlier and join us for Bible study and coffee, as well.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll consider it.” She wasn’t sure she was ready for that, though. Needed to meet a few people first.
“If you’ll pick up a brochure on the way out, you’ll see a listing of Sunday school classes and other small group meetings we have throughout the week. I hope you’ll visit around, find a place where you feel comfortable.”
“Ted?” someone called from the choir loft while tapping a microphone that appeared to be dead.
“Excuse me for running off,” Ted said. “I think they’re having trouble with the sound system. Again, welcome. We’re glad God brought you here today.” He patted her hand, reminding her of her grandfather, and then strode to the front of the church.
Her smile faltered. When she’d left her hometown so many years ago to go to college, severing contact with her parents, she’d hurt her grandfather. Though she’d remained close to him, she’d also disappointed him. On his deathbed, he’d told her he still prayed daily that she would forgive her parents and reconcile. He died having never seen that prayer answered.
And she still hadn’t found it in her heart to forgive them for refusing to help her keep her son, for forcing her to give him up for adoption. She hadn’t seen her parents since her granddad’s funeral, where she’d avoided extended conversation.
Pushing aside the painful memory and the guilt, she steered away from the center aisle and moved to the far left. She inched her way down to about the fourth row from the back and took a seat on the end. As church members entered, they came over to greet her. They were a friendly bunch, making her glad she’d come.
Trying not to be conspicuous, she searched the crowd for Jake in case he’d come in while she was talking. But he wasn’t there.
Her shoulders drooped. Had he had a bad night? An infant would certainly make getting ready difficult. Or maybe he didn’t attend regularly.
Whatever the reason for his absence, she could still check out possible women in the congregation who could help him with Abigail. As the organist played a prelude, Violet scoped out the room. There were definitely a few young mothers she could try to meet to feel them out, see if they might be available.
Five minutes into the service as the pastor was making announcements, the door behind Violet opened. Maybe it was Jake. Her neck muscles tensed.
She glanced back, and sure enough, Jake was headed down the center aisle wearing khaki pants and a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He carried Abigail’s car seat as if it didn’t weigh a pound.
Though his beard was neatly trimmed and his hair was freshly washed, the man looked tired. Harried. And he was obviously late.
Had he had trouble giving Abigail a bath? Had they not gotten any sleep last night? Could there be something wrong with Abigail that Violet had missed?
She snapped her attention back to the front of the church and crossed her arms, her teeth clamped tightly together. Jake was a grown man. She shouldn’t worry so much.
Jake slid in the other end of her row—her row, of all places. As he set the carrier on the seat beside him, she tried not to stare. Had he spotted her?
She needed to face the front and concentrate on worshipping.
Yet part of the way through the service, when they stood to sing a hymn, she found herself looking over to check on Abigail. Once she realized she couldn’t get a clear view of the baby, her gaze wandered upward.
Jake’s gaze locked with hers. He didn’t crack a smile or spare a wave. The man was used to being the boss at the work site, the one checking up on others. He apparently didn’t like thinking someone might be checking up on him.
Well, that was too bad. She wiggled her fingers at him in a friendly wave.
He inclined his head in acknowledgment and then turned back to his hymnbook, singing along until the song came to a close.
Always good at blocking out distractions, Violet sat and tuned in to the pastor’s sermon. When he began to preach about the prodigal son, she stilled.
Seriously?
Had God whispered in Pastor Greer’s ear that a wayward believer would show up in need of a good talking-to?
No one in the sanctuary could possibly know how convicted she felt, but Violet’s face burned in shame at how she’d tossed aside her faith for more than a decade. Ever since the day fourteen years ago when that little pregnancy test stick had turned positive, when her prayers for help had gone unanswered.
Though Violet wondered if maybe God had been the one to nudge her to come today, she still couldn’t bring herself to pray. God probably didn’t care to hear from her.
Abigail whimpered. A second whimper cranked up to a good cry, distracting Violet from the message. At the moment, she welcomed the distraction.
Jake looked a bit panicky, rifling through the diaper bag, then popping a pacifier in the baby’s mouth.
Apparently, she spit it out because the crying kicked up a notch.
Maybe Violet should scoot over to help.
Jake unhooked the car seat straps and lifted Abigail out, his movements rushed and awkward. Tough to be calm and collected when everyone around was beginning to stare. Even if they were smiling.
He bounced Abigail in his arms, but she wouldn’t be consoled.
Violet moved an inch and stopped. Would he think she was interfering?
People turned to look at Jake. He grabbed a bottle and impressed Violet with how quickly he popped it into Abigail’s mouth. But she refused it and continued to squall.
With stomach tensing, Violet leaned forward, ready to spring over beside Jake.
Grace Hunt rose from her seat. With her bobbed white hair, she walked up the aisle toward Jake. Smiling, she held out her arms to take the infant. He handed her over along with a pacifier.
As Grace walked away, bouncing Abigail, the crying stopped. Jake heaved a sigh and relaxed against the back of the pew.
Violet had missed her chance. Yet maybe this woman would be the perfect helper for Jake. After the service Violet would suggest Jake ask her for pointers, and maybe Grace could—
Violet’s phone vibrated in her pocket. A message from the hospital reporting a five-year-old patient in the ER with dehydration.
On autopilot, she grabbed her purse and slipped into the side aisle, heading toward the exit. Grace stood in the back swaying, holding the pacifier in Abigail’s mouth. She smiled and nodded at Violet as she passed. Violet returned the smile, yet couldn’t help checking out the baby.
Looking happy and healthy, Abigail sucked on the pacifier while she observed the kind woman holding her.
A wave of disappointment washed over Violet, quickly replaced by irritation. She should not be disappointed that Jake didn’t need her help. She should be pleased this woman had offered assistance. Hadn’t that been one of Violet’s goals for coming today?
Jake had a friend who could teach him to care for the baby. It was time for Violet to return to work mode, to make sure her interest in Jake and Abigail remained strictly professional.
Chapter Three (#ulink_2e9c2a07-e21f-52c0-a4ea-be51c73ce603)
“You sure are calling early,” Aunt Edith said on the other end of the phone line. “It’s barely 6:00 a.m.”
Jake stood in his kitchen bouncing Abigail in the crook of his arm. She’d been fussy since she woke at five o’clock.
All morning, he’d tried every trick he knew to soothe her, including walking around the yard before dawn and swinging on his childhood swing set while holding Abigail. She would settle for a few minutes but then start fretting again.
Unlike during her nighttime crying jags, at least she was finally taking her bottle this morning.
“What’s that noise?” Edith asked. “It sounds like a baby.”
“That’s because it is a baby.”
“Is there something you need to tell us?” she said with a laugh.
If only the whole thing were a joke and he could laugh along with her. “Actually, there is. Why don’t you put Uncle Paul on the other phone?”
Edith called for her husband to pick up the other extension, telling him Jake had something important to tell them.
“What is it, son?” Paul asked.
“Remy came by a couple of days ago.”
Edith gasped. “How is she?”
“She’s okay. Looks pretty good, actually. And she’s had a baby.”
Silence.
“Sorry,” Jake said. “Wish I could have prepared you better for that bombshell. But she showed up Friday evening, claiming she’s been clean for a year now but saying she’s not good mother material. She left the two-week-old baby with me and took off.”
“What?” Edith nearly shrieked, probably trying to imagine him taking care of her infant grandchild.
“I don’t know what to say.” Paul sounded worn-out, as if he’d taken one too many emotional beatings.
Jake’s aunt and uncle had been through a great deal of pain and disappointment with their daughter, who’d lied to them, stolen from them and nearly depleted their savings in rehab programs. They’d had to practice tough love for their own sanity.
Once they’d refused to enable her any longer, Remy’s rare visits ceased. Because of financial difficulties, the couple had decided to sell their practice and retire early. They moved south to heal.
Jake hated to be the one to reopen the wound. “I’m sorry to call. I tried waiting, hoping she’d come back in a day or two. But she hasn’t. I have no contact information. No license plate number. Nothing with an address except hospital records, and who knows if Remy still lives there?”
“We have a grandchild,” Edith whispered, tears choking off her voice.
With a whimper, Abigail drew her knees in and spit out the nipple. Not now.
“Yes, and Remy put in writing that she wants me to raise her,” Jake said.
“We have a granddaughter?”
“Edith,” Paul snapped. “A baby isn’t going to instantly make us some normal, happy family. She’ll come back for the girl, disappear and break our hearts all over again.”
His aunt began to cry. Then the phone line clicked as she hung up.
“Uncle Paul?”
“Yeah, I’m still here. What do you plan to do?”
No offer of help. Jake was on his own.
The baby started to fret. He put her to his shoulder and walked outside. What was wrong with her this morning? Was she sick?
“I’ll wait it out,” Jake said. “I’m sure Remy will come back. In the meantime, I had Dr. Crenshaw check her out.”
Paul harrumphed.
“I know we didn’t like the terms of the contract, but I think she’s a good doctor,” Jake said, looking across his backyard to the doc’s house.
She sat at the table on her patio. Had she heard him mention her name to his uncle?
“I’m sure she’s a good doctor,” Paul said. “She had impeccable references. I just didn’t like her negotiating. Didn’t like her evaluation of our business practices.”
Violet stood and started toward him. Great. Just what he needed while his uncle got on a roll.
“Hey, listen. The baby’s fussing. I should go.”
“You didn’t say whether the baby checked out okay.”
“She’s fine.”
“That’s a relief. Maybe Remy managed to take decent care of her.”
“I need to go. The neighbor’s heading this way.” He wouldn’t specify which neighbor.
“Okay. I imagine Remy will turn up soon, unless, of course, she’s back on drugs.”
And wasn’t that the story of Remy’s life? Her problems with drugs had wrecked her life and pretty much destroyed what family Jake had left. “Tell Aunt Edith not to worry about this big clod handling the baby. Doc Crenshaw came over and trained me.”
Paul let out a groan. “Don’t get sucked in by the pretty doctor. I’m sure Grace Hunt from the church will be glad to help you.”
The pretty—more like beautiful—doctor stood in front of him wearing running shorts, an Emory Medical School T-shirt and running shoes. Jake’s neck heated. Surely there wasn’t any way she’d heard their conversation.
“I’ll get the situation figured out,” he said to his uncle.
“We can always depend on you, Jake,” Paul said. “I’ll let you know if by some wild chance we hear from your cousin. Don’t tell Edith or it’ll get her hopes up, but I’ll do some checking to see if I can locate Remy.”
“Thanks.” They hung up, and he forced a smile for Violet. “Good morning. What’s up?”
“I heard Abigail crying earlier when I was out running. Thought I would check on you.”
“Making house calls now, huh?” He stuffed the rejected bottle in his pocket, brought Abigail to his shoulder and then gently patted her back. “Come on, sweet thing. Give a nice big burp for Cousin Jake.”
Abigail complied by spitting up across his shoulder and down his back.
“What’s the deal, Abigail?” he said.
“Some spitting up is normal. Here, let me take her.” Violet took the baby and they headed inside the kitchen.
She grabbed a cloth diaper from a freshly washed stack he’d left on the counter. “I’ll clean her up.”
“Thanks.” Jake went to his room to change shirts.
When he returned to the kitchen, Violet was sweet-talking Abigail. She’d changed her into a clean onesie—a new word he’d learned since becoming a temporary guardian. Violet also had the child calmed.
“Thanks. I think my laundry has multiplied tenfold with one tiny little gal.”
“Has she acted sick this morning? Is that why you were outside so early?”
“I’m sorry if we disturbed you.”
“No, I’m not complaining. Just wondering if everything’s okay.”
“She woke early and has been fussy. Looks flushed.”
Violet placed her lips on Abigail’s forehead. “She feels a little warm to me. Did you take her temperature?”
He winced because he had hundreds of dollars of baby paraphernalia but not the equipment he needed. “I apparently missed buying a thermometer.”
“I have one. Be right back.” She handed over the infant and hurried out the door.
Worried about Abigail and not wanting to drag her to the work site again, he decided he would skip going as planned. There wasn’t a lot Jake needed to do that morning anyway, other than check on the cabinet installers and hurry up the interior painters. He texted Zeb. When Zeb didn’t reply, he called the man’s voice mail to check in and leave instructions.
Violet returned with a bag and pulled out a funny-looking gadget. “Here we go.”
“That doesn’t look like the thermometers I remember.”
She laughed as she gently placed it against Abigail’s temple. “You’ve got to admit this is much more pleasant than the alternative—which, by the way, is my preferred method to measure an accurate temp.”
The instrument beeped, and she showed him the result. One hundred degrees. Now what?
He glanced at the doctor, searching for signs of concern. “From what I read online this morning it isn’t considered a fever until a hundred point four.”
“That’s a good guideline, but we worry more about the young ones.” She brushed back the baby girl’s wispy black hair. Felt her neck.
She didn’t look too concerned, but his stomach churned anyway. He was not fit to parent a baby. He could set budgets, place orders, coordinate schedules, direct multiple crews of workers and make tough decisions all day long. But throw in a variable like four-tenths of a degree of body temperature and he turned into a bumbling idiot.
Abigail whimpered.
“Why don’t we take her temp again?” he said. “Just to make me feel better.”
“Sure. I’ll show you how.”
They went to the living room, and he laid Abigail on the couch. Violet gave him the thermometer and directed him on using it.
Ninety-nine point nine. “Should we be concerned?”
“I doubt it. But I brought my bag, so let me check her over.”
His phone vibrated. A new text message.
While she looked in Abigail’s ears, he checked the text from Zeb.
Owner said kitchen tile wasn’t right color. I checked the order. Is exactly what you told us.
Frustration cinched his gut. Changes cost money and time. I’ll look into it. Baby may be sick, he texted back.
“Ears are fine.” Violet warmed a stethoscope and listened to Abigail’s lungs. “Honestly, she seems fine. Did she cry again last night?”
“From about nine to midnight.”
“Looking more like we’re dealing with colic.”
His phone buzzed again. “Excuse me just a minute. I have a problem at work.”
“Go ahead. I’ll walk with her outside and see if I can calm her.” Violet swaddled the baby in a receiving blanket, then went through the kitchen and out the back door.
The text was from Zeb again. Mrs. E says she hopes you won’t let babysitting interfere with your job.
Mrs. Emerson was the owner of one of the homes they were building. She tended to walk around the work site in a business suit and three-inch high heels, breathing down everyone’s neck. But Jake wanted her to love her home.
He got Zeb on the phone. “Tell Mrs. Emerson not to worry. I want my customers happy.”
“Will do.” Zeb snickered. “Baby is fussy, huh? Sounds like you’re a regular Mr. Mom.”
Jake had seen the man with his grandkids. Zeb had a tough-as-nails exterior and a marshmallow-puff interior. “Yeah, you keep making fun. Next time I see you swinging beside one of your grandkids at the park, you’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Well, Mr. Mom has a backbone after all.”
Jake snorted a laugh. “The girl has been fussy. Temp is a little elevated.”
“When in doubt, go to the doctor. Another excuse to get cozy with the cute new pediatrician who about chewed your rear off Saturday.”
Wondering how many people had overheard that discussion made his face burn. “The doc is actually here checking her now. But I assure you, there’s no coziness where Violet Crenshaw is concerned.” A quick glance out the back door gave him a good excuse to avoid the topic. “In fact, I need to go check on them.”
“You do that, Jake.” Zeb was laughing as he disconnected.
* * *
Soft, jet-black hair that smelled like baby shampoo brushed against Violet’s cheek, melting her insides. Calm and relaxed, she was pleased her first appointment wasn’t until eight-thirty. She didn’t need to hurry home.
And Abigail seemed to be relaxing, too. Was getting sleepy.
Jake came out the back door. The sight of him in a T-shirt that molded to his work-toned muscles instantly shot her heart rate up, undoing any soothing from holding Abigail.
“How’s she doing?” he asked.
“Better.” She smiled at him, knowing he could use some encouragement.
He held up the thermometer he’d brought with him, then took another reading. “Ninety-eight point seven.” His shoulders dropped. “That’s good. I feel stupid for worrying.”
“Don’t apologize for erring on the side of caution. Little ones like this can get sick quickly.”
“I was afraid I’d done something wrong bathing her last night. Was afraid she’d gotten chilled. She wasn’t a happy camper through that nightmare.”
Violet bit back a smile. “Bathing will get easier.”
“I hope. I think I took too long. She was okay at first, but then the water got cool. She started squalling, all stiff and furious. I bundled her up afterward, making sure she warmed up.”
Violet’s chest squeezed. The image of this tall, brawny man doing something sweet like warming a chilled baby battered at her heart.
He held out his arms for Abigail.
Hating to give up the warm, sleeping bundle, she handed her over, willing a steel rod into her spine instead of the gelatin this man had put there. “You’re doing fine, Jake. Do you think the fussiness this morning seemed different from the crying she’s done at night?”
“Definitely. This morning’s fussiness hasn’t been as severe. At night, no matter what I do to comfort her, she continually shrieks—which, for the record, is horrendous.”
“I can imagine.”
“I walk the floor, rocking her, singing, cracking dumb jokes, doing everything but standing on my head. It’s as if I’m not even there.” He shrugged, his eyes troubled. “I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.”
Warning, warning! No melting of heart allowed.
“Today, though, I could console her briefly. She didn’t all-out cry, just whimpered and whined.”
“Hmm. That does sound more like a baby feeling ill. There’s a chance she has a tummy ache or some gas. Are you remembering to burp her after her bottles?”
“Yes. But she has been drawing up her legs as if her stomach hurts. One of my subcontractors mentioned a change of formula curing his grandchild’s colic.”
Violet would make a note of the stomach pain in Abigail’s file. “Every now and then, I’ve found changing to lactose-free formula does help. How about I bring some samples to you at lunchtime?”
“It would be easier if I just dropped by to pick them up. Besides, I’d feel better if you weighed the little gal. To make sure she’s growing okay.”
His concern made her stomach swoop. “I’ll be happy to weigh her for you. Come by at noon.”
“Great, thanks.”
Jake carefully wrapped the blanket tighter around Abigail, every tuck of the fabric jarring loose more of the protective barrier from around Violet’s heart, releasing the longing she’d held at bay for so long.
Longing for a husband of her own and a baby to love.
She worked with babies every day. Why was Abigail different?
Could the difference be Jake? What was it about him that gave her crazy notions of love and family?
He rubbed his big, strong hand over Abigail’s tiny head. It hit her then why Jake affected her so. It was because he was a single guy suddenly stuck with a baby.
A guy who needed Violet’s help.
Cold rushed through her veins. She absolutely could not allow herself to fall into the being-needed trap. That’s how she’d gotten sucked into an inappropriately intense—and intimate—relationship with Hank in high school. And ended up pregnant.
She would never, ever again get sucked in by a needy man.
Jake’s not really needy, a little niggling voice said. He’s not manipulating you, demanding your total devotion. He’s just a strong man in a temporary, unfamiliar situation.
He kissed the baby’s forehead and then looked into Violet’s eyes. The moment went on longer than normal—too long—and suddenly something flared between them.
Violet could barely breathe. “We’re usually closed at lunch, so if no one is at the front desk, come on back to the first exam room.”
“Okay. We’ll see you at noon.” His grateful smile did crazy things to her insides.
“I, uh, need to get to the office.” She shot toward the row of hedges between their houses, escaping the handsome babysitter who made her want things she feared wanting.
* * *
A grinning puppy with human-like teeth mocked Jake.
The pup was pictured on a giant, kid-friendly poster hanging on the wall in the pediatric exam room. This whole scenario—him in the former office of the family who raised him, being questioned about a baby who shouldn’t be in his care by the woman who had “bought” the practice from them—was laughable. Sad, but laughable.
Violet, who’d been so helpful that morning, had turned back into serious doctor mode at the office. “Here are the samples.” She pointed to a bag. “Abigail’s weight is good. She’s gained a couple of ounces, which is right on target. Before we try changing her formula, I’d like to first consult with her mother or her regular pediatrician.”
“I have written permission from Remy to make decisions for Abigail.”

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