Daddy on Her Doorstep. Lilian Darcy
corner of his eye and there she was.
Pacing.
Back and forth.
Lifting her face and pressing her lips together and whooshing out a breath.
Not happy.
Even from here, he could see her grimace and push down a sob.
Shoot! That wasn’t just a twinge in her back, this time. She was in labor, and he could read her reaction from here. It wasn’t in the plan, it shouldn’t be happening yet. She wasn’t due for another month. Things clearly always went to plan in Claudia Nelson World, and she was scared.
She was scared, she was on her own and he had no choice.
He left the blinds open, pulled on the casual athletic shoes he’d just kicked under the bed. Down on the deck, he found her still pacing. She’d gone farther, down the steps and into the yard. She had her back to him and he heard her whimper and groan as another contraction hit. It ebbed and she turned and saw him, and from her expression he felt as if he’d caught her out in something private.
Weakness, he realized. She didn’t want to seem weak. She didn’t want to give the naysayers—whomever they were—the slightest ammunition.
It was impressive and oddly troubling to see how quickly she composed herself. “I think I’m in labor.”
“I know you are, Claud,” he said quite tenderly, shortening her name as if he’d known her for years, instead of a tiny handful of meetings, a hot kiss in a waking dream, and a couple of waves and smiles. “Is it helping you to be outside? It’s cold and you don’t look that warmly dressed.”
“I just needed some air. I thought if I walked around, the pains might stop, but they haven’t.” She smiled tightly. “You’re right, it is cold.” She gave a shiver and hugged herself. Her hair was down tonight, but drawn back with some kind of clip at the back of her head. She must have fastened the clip in a hurry because it wasn’t straight, and it was slipping lower and lower through all that gleaming dark silk.
“Come in.”
“I’ll take another minute or two. The books say you should walk around.”
“Let me get you a coat. The books don’t say you should catch cold.”
“I didn’t bring a coat. Just a couple of jackets. It’s April. Spring. I thought I’d just stay inside when it was cold out and the weather would be warm in a few weeks, by the time the baby was born. I didn’t think I’d be outside at night.”
“I can lend you something.”
She nodded. “That would be great.” She began to pace again, and he went inside and found a trench coat that his sister-in-law Alicia had left up here during the winter. Claudia would appreciate Alicia’s expensive fashion tastes. The coat was by some designer. Alicia’s clothes were always by someone, Andy had noted. He wasn’t convinced that this was making model-gorgeous Alicia or his very driven orthopedic surgeon brother MJ happy, seven years into their marriage.
“I’m so sorry to disturb you like this,” Claudia began, when he came back out, as if she’d appeared at his front door to borrow a cup of sugar.
“No problem,” he answered, as if he had bags full of the sweet stuff.
She let him help her into the coat and he caught a tiny waft of her scent, like a tendril of flower-scented mist as she hugged it around herself. It reminded him far too vividly of the other night on her couch, his dream, the way he’d awoken and the way those moments lingered in his head.
She snuggled into the soft lining of the coat and instinctively adjusted the collar and pulled at the sides so that it sat the way it was meant to. Her hair bunched up, and the clip was caught somewhere beneath the coat fabric. She didn’t even notice. If he’d been the father of her baby instead of her landlord who didn’t want to get involved, he would have reached out and tucked the loose strands behind her ears, searched for the slipping clip.
“No problem,” he repeated half under his breath, while he fought and swiftly beat the resurging moment of male awareness.
What the hell was such a thing doing showing up now? Bad enough the other night. She was in labor, for crying out loud, so this was worse. They’d been right to keep their distance from each other, keep to the businesslike footing of tenant and landlord. But how could you do that when the landlord was a doctor and the tenant was ready to give birth?
“You must be about to go to bed and I’m sure you need your sleep,” Claudia went on. The note of apology would have been more suited to an announcement that, most unfortunately, she was going to be a day or two late with the rent. “But if you could just give me some indication …” But then the politeness and frail pretense of efficiency fell away. “Help me! Could you? Dr. McKinley?”
“Call me Andy, for heck’s sake,” he growled, almost as helpless as she was.
She needed someone’s touch. Warm loving arms, kisses of reassurance and murmured words about how great she was doing, but he had no right. And he didn’t have rocks in his head. He’d got a grip about those.
“I don’t know what to do. I just don’t. This isn’t supposed to be happening.”
Okay, Andy, you’re a doctor, you’ve been here hundreds of times before, and if this is a little different, just ignore it and go with what you know …
“Not very much to do at this stage.” He kept his voice neutral and professional. “Everything’s fine and under control, I promise. Keep walking around if it helps. We can go up and down the sidewalk, if you want.” He took her arm and kept her pacing slowly, back and forth on the deck, while she took in his words.
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