What The Doctor Ordered. Cheryl Wolverton
meal every once in a while.”
“He?” Rachel asked, tossing the miscellaneous articles into her bedroom and pulling the door shut. “And why do you feel responsible? Does he have a kid in your day care?”
Rachel knew her mom loved to mother everyone. All the kids at the day care she thought of as hers. If there was a single father who was having a rough time of it, she wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to find out her mother had adopted him and was having him over for dinner all the time. Rachel’s mind drifted to the appealing man she’d met earlier that day.
“No. He’s a big help there, though.”
Scratch that one. Rachel wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. Dropping to her knees, she started gathering blocks from the round wool carpet that covered the floor. That was all they needed—someone to come in and break their neck on a block.
“Maa uh!” Lindsay came running into the room and launched herself onto Rachel’s back.
“Umph.” Rachel, precariously balanced, went down, blocks going everywhere.
Lindsay gurgled and crawled onto her mom, bouncing. “Pae-ee. Pae-ee.”
She waved her hands, motioning.
“Not now,” Rachel signed. “Cleaning.”
“Pae-ee.”
Rachel started to shake her head and say no again, but saw the look of laughter in her daughter’s eyes. How often had she had time to play with her daughter in the last month? She’d had to put their house up for sale in the twin cities, get things packed up, move, find a job here. She’d tried to be there for her daughter, but tonight, she’d been longer than she’d planned and then had had to run errands for her mother. She had taken a long shower only to come down to find out they were having company.
Company.
She just didn’t have the time….
“Go on, take a quick break. You have time, honey,” her mother called from the kitchen.
They did have twenty more minutes, she thought.
Lindsay bounced on her.
Rachel oofed for her daughter.
Lindsay squealed, delighted.
Rachel gave in. Just a minute wouldn’t matter. “Mommies tickle for that.” She signed as she said it.
Lindsay squealed again and promptly bounced once more.
“Mommies gobble, too.” Rachel followed this with actions as she grabbed her daughter and pulled her up, searching for her tummy under her shirt before blowing raspberries.
Lindsay shrieked and laughed. “Mo! Mo!”
“You want more, do you, you little munchkin?” she said, bouncing Lindsay on her tummy. “Okay, here it comes.” She lifted her hand and started twisting it around, making a buzzing noise.
Lindsay’s hand went to her mother’s mouth to feel the sensations.
Rachel twisted her finger again. “Zzzzzzz…here it comes. Zzzzz…”
Giggling, Lindsay wiggled, but Rachel wouldn’t release her. “I got you now, bubble baby,” she teased and then dived in, grabbing Lindsay’s tummy and tickling. Lindsay glowed as she laughed and slapped at her mommy’s hands. In fact, she was so loud Rachel didn’t hear the doorbell. All she saw was her mother pass by.
It was Lindsay who alerted her to the new comer. Her eyes lost the gleam and focused toward the door. “Maaamuuu.” She pointed at her grandmother.
Tilting her head to look at her mother and see what she wanted, Rachel realized it wasn’t MaMu her daughter was pointing at. Lindsay was telling her that someone else was here.
And of course, it would be the one person she hadn’t been expecting, the very person who set her heart rushing at dangerous speeds. Tall, dark and handsome stood with Betty by the door, smiling indulgently at her and Lindsay.
Chapter Four
“Good evening.”
Morgan stared at her, with Lindsay sitting on her, and couldn’t hide his smile. Rachel was beautiful. Flushed, her hair a mess, love glowing in her eyes for her daughter. Morgan didn’t think he’d ever seen a more perfect picture of motherhood.
“Uh…”
And she was embarrassed, he realized.
Sitting up, she lifted Lindsay with her. “Wash. Dinner,” she said to her daughter, and Morgan was surprised to see how easily she used American Sign Language right along with her words. In all his years of practice, he’d had a few deaf children. Few mothers bothered to learn how to communicate with their deaf children, other than to point.
Lindsay cast another glance at Morgan and sprinted toward the bathroom.
Rachel stood and smoothed her charcoal trousers. The thin blue sweater she wore had just a hint of gray to bring out the blue in her eyes. He didn’t feel overdressed in his gray pants and sweater. He’d debated long and hard what to wear and had finally given up and pulled this outfit out of the closet. Morgan couldn’t remember a time he’d been worried about how he looked for a woman.
Rachel was different.
“Hello again.”
She glanced around him curiously, and he wondered what she was looking for. “Where’s your child?”
The question hit him in the gut. How could she know…
“Jeremy?”
“Oh.” Morgan relaxed. Offering a generous smile, he said, “Jeremy wasn’t mine.”
She quirked her brow in query, but Lindsay chose that moment to come running into the room. “Unre, maauu.”
“Time for dinner,” she said and lifted her daughter into her arms.
“I had no idea Betty was your mother when I met you today.” He quirked his lips apologetically.
Rachel returned the smile with a halfhearted nod. “Well, she is. And we’re living with her for a while.”
She tilted her head toward her daughter, and her hair fell, covering her face. Long delicate fingers came up and absently pushed it behind her ear. “Aren’t we, Lindsay?” she singsonged softly as she started to the table. “Please, come in and have a seat. Make yourself at home. Mom tells me you’re over here quite a bit.”
Morgan followed her into the dining room and watched as she strapped her daughter into a child’s seat before grabbing a sipper cup and setting it in front of her daughter. “Yes, your mom has adopted me.”
Betty, who was coming in with the chicken, nodded. “I sure did. He’s my local son, since both of you kids never come visit your mama.”
Morgan went over and took the platter from her. “Let me get that, Betty.”
“Thanks, Morgan.” She turned to go into the kitchen, talking over her shoulder. “Sit down, get aquainted. I’ll be right back.”
Morgan hesitated then nodded. Looking at Rachel, he said, “Very self-reliant, isn’t she?”
Rachel chuckled. “Understatement.” She got up, got the napkins and silverware and finished setting the table.
“You know sign language well.”
Rachel glanced at him in surprise. “My daughter is hearing impaired,” she replied simply.
“How much does she understand?” he queried.
Rachel frowned. “Enough.”
He heard it in her voice. Back off. So he did, turning his attention to Lindsay instead.
She was sipping,