A Baby to Love Read online

  Ms. Kilcuddy sighed, and her large bosom heaved. “Oh yes, dear. The courts check out parents quite thoroughly before ordering foster care to turn over a child to a new parent.”

  Chelsea’s brow wrinkled in confusion. Why was her baby in foster care?

  A nurse tried to enter the room, and Dr. Kendall walked to the door, said something in her ear. The nurse left with a smile, as if pleased to do the handsome Dr. Kendall a favor. When he pressed his back to the door, blocking anyone else from interrupting, Chelsea wanted to drape her arms around his neck and kiss him for giving her the opportunity to get to the bottom of this new puzzle. Instead, she settled for a glance of appreciation.

  Questions swam fast and furiously through her head. How had this woman ended up with her child? And what had she meant about gaining custody? Had Chelsea recently divorced? “How did you find me here? Why did you have my baby?”

  The woman looked from Dr. Kendall to Chelsea. “Oh, you poor thing. I’ll explain what I know, but it’s not a lot.”

  “It would be a great kindness.” Dr. Kendall’s voice was cordial, but Chelsea noted the flicker of impatience in his eyes that indicated he was as eager to hear the answers as she was.

  Ms. Kilcuddy leaned forward and tickled the baby under the chin. “I don’t want to upset you, but Alex’s mother was Anne Spears, your best friend. She was murdered.”

  Murdered. Her best friend was dead. And she couldn’t remember her face, couldn’t recall the pain she must have felt at her loss. Chelsea gulped in a lungful of air.

  She wasn’t the baby’s birth mother. No wonder the little darling didn’t feel right in her arms. No wonder she felt so unfamiliar with the idea of motherhood.

  Ignoring Chelsea’s startled reaction, Ms. Kilcuddy continued. “Anne Spears had been mugged and died without recovering consciousness from a coma. It’s a shame her attacker has yet to be apprehended. But life goes on. In her will, Anne requested that you adopt her baby. You agreed. Last week you signed for custody. When you didn’t show for your appointment to pick up Alex, I suspected something was wrong. I called every hospital in the area and tracked you here.”

  “What about the baby’s father?” Dr. Kendall asked.

  The woman from foster care shook her head sadly. “Poor little tyke. Only three months old. Anne named Albert Marcel Llewellyn as the birth father on Alex’s birth certificate.”

  Albert Marcel Llewellyn. The name didn’t mean a thing to Chelsea.

  “The court made every effort to find Mr. Llewellyn but failed. That’s why we had Alex in our care for so long. Actually Alex was accidently given to Barrett Montgomery, and the little tyke even made it to Walt Disney World. But that’s all straightened out now. Baby Rachel is back with Zoey and Barrett, and you have your little guy safe and sound.”

  Rachel? Zoey? Barrett? The names meant nothing to Chelsea. She squeezed the baby. Besides being orphaned, at three months he’d already been a victim of government ineptitude. “Alex doesn’t have a mother or a father?”

  At the sound of Chelsea’s voice, Alex screwed up his face and screamed, his mouth puckering in a tight little twist. Jiggling the baby only made the yowls increase until her ears rang.

  “He may not have his natural parents, but now he has you, dear.”

  Yeah. He had her. The poor kid didn’t have any luck. Not only had he lost his parents, he’d ended up with a mother who’d lost her memory and had no idea how to care for a child. She would never have guessed such loud noises could come from someone so small. Alex’s eyes squeezed shut tightly, and his face flushed crimson. Enormous tears rained down his cheeks.

  Dr. Kendall approached, and Ms. Kilcuddy placed a business card beside the bed. “I’ve told you all I know, but if I can help, you can reach me at this number.” When Ms. Kilcuddy leaned forward to kiss Alex goodbye, she whispered in Chelsea’s ear, “The handsome doctor is showing more than a gleam of interest in you, dear.” Then with a wink and a swish of her skirts, she was gone, and Chelsea hoped she wasn’t blushing at the woman’s words.

  Alex cried as if he knew he’d been left alone again.

  With her lack of knowledge, Chelsea looked to Dr. Kendall for help. “What do I do?”

  He lifted the baby from Chelsea and tucked Alex near his side, supporting the baby’s head in the crook of his elbow. “What’s wrong, tiger? Are you alone and scared? No need to be. The pretty lady’s going to take good care of you.”

  Chelsea tucked away his compliment and the warm feeling it evoked into a memory file to draw out and examine at another time. She couldn’t help smiling as Dr. Kendall spoke to the baby.

  “You’re going to have a wonderful life, little fellow.”

  Alex ceased his caterwauling and stared at the doctor as if fascinated by his face. Surely a three-monthold baby couldn’t distinguish between handsome and ugly? But how could Chelsea ignore the evidence before her eyes? With barely a few soft words, the doctor had enchanted the baby with his charms.

  Maybe he knew a doctor trick. “How did you do that?”

  As he made goo-goo eyes at Alex, Dr. Kendall sculpted his lips into a silly grin. “How did I do what?”

  “Get him to stop crying.”

  “I just made him comfortable by supporting his back and head. You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

  Despite his words, he showed no inclination to hand the baby back. Instead, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and, fascinated, the baby cooed in appreciation. When Dr. Kendall ran a finger along the sole of his tiny foot, Alex smiled a toothless grin, showing off a deep dimple in each cheek.

  Chelsea chuckled. “I think he likes you.”

  “I’m a likable kind of guy, aren’t I, tiger?” He jiggled his dark brows, and the baby waved a tiny fist.

  Chelsea didn’t know the good doctor well, but people of all sizes and ages—even babies—seemed to agree. There was nothing not to like about Dr. Kendall.

  The baby reached for the stethoscope, missed and slapped the doctor’s face. Dr. Kendall chuckled softly. “Ah, tiger, you want to be a lover not a fighter.”

  Chelsea giggled. “You sound odd, talking to him when he can’t understand a word you say.”

  “He understands more than you might think—not my words but my tone. In a few days he’ll recognize you and smile when you walk into his room. He’ll tell you without words when he’s hungry or needs a diaper changed.”

  Chelsea settled against a pillow and arched a brow in skepticism. “How?”

  “You see, babies…”

  She might find the topic fascinating but she still couldn’t hold back a yawn. Dr. Kendall returned to her side with Alex comfortably nestled on his shoulder. “You can learn all about babies later when you aren’t exhausted. What you need to understand now is that Alex can’t remain here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Hospital policy forbids healthy children from staying with their parents. I’ll have to call child services.”

  “Child services?”

  “No need for alarm. It’s a government agency. Whenever a family member is unavailable to watch the children, family services helps out. They’ll send someone to care for him until you are able.”

  “But—”

  “Relax. After we call, they take hours to come to the hospital. Since it’s almost five o’clock, I doubt they’ll show until tomorrow.” He winked. “And you can check out tomorrow.”

  She should trust her instincts instead of jumping to conclusions. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  “Meanwhile, I’ll see to Alex’s care.” He smiled at the infant. “Come on, tiger. Your new mama needs rest.”

  Jeff carried the baby toward the nursery in hope of prevailing on one of the nurses to take care of Alex. The baby snuggled against him, content to suck his thumb.

  “That’s it, Alex. You just relax. If I can find Nurse Betty or Nurse Allison, I’ll be leaving you in the best of hands.”

  The baby didn’t seem anywhere near
as tired as Chelsea had been. He turned his head as people walked by, his eyes alert and curious.

  With the baby quiet in his arms, Jeff focused his thoughts on his patient—his too-attractive patient. Alone and scared, she’d gazed at him, fighting back tears, and he’d had difficulty maintaining his professional distance. It wasn’t just her pretty face that made him want to reach out and comfort her. If he analyzed her features one by one, he wouldn’t call her a true beauty—her lips were a tad too full, but perfect for kissing. Her large eyes eclipsed a short, straight nose and perfect white teeth in an oval face. Her skin, smooth and clear, was too pale for his taste, but after what she’d been through, she’d held up remarkably well—surprisingly well. Feature by feature, she was not extraordinary, but with looks and character combined, she was a fascinating mix of strength, vulnerability and mystery.

  After watching her cope admirably with a loss of identity that would floor most patients, he suspected during normal times Chelsea Connors was a collected and cool customer. She might appear vulnerable on the surface, but beneath he sensed a core of steel.

  Because of the head wound, he couldn’t have sedated her if she’d become hysterical. His only option would have been to restrain her. Thank God, with her strong will dominating her fear, it hadn’t come to that.

  Jeff longed to know Chelsea Connors better. But as long as she remained his patient, he had no choice in the matter Theirs could only be a professional doctor-patient relationship. Chelsea had been injured, she’d been in a coma for a day and now she had amnesia. She needed time to recover.

  Yet it was peculiar that so minor an injury had caused Chelsea’s amnesia. Psychological trauma was more likely responsible.

  Although it hadn’t been his place to voice his suspicions to the cop, Chelsea was clearly in trouble. While the mystery surrounding her intrigued Jeff, the gun she’d purchased was an indication she was involved in something dangerous and possibly deadly.

  He walked down the hall, noting the nurse who had been flirting with Officer Russo was now hanging on his arm. Strangely, or maybe not so strangely, the blond policeman was still around. When he spotted Jeff and the baby, he separated himself from the nurse and made a beeline for Jeff.

  Officer Russo whipped out pen and paper in a gesture more suited to an ace reporter than a lawman. “Spare a minute, Doc? Ms. Kilcuddy filled me in, but I have a few more questions.”

  Jeff took the man’s elbow and steered him to a visitors’ waiting area out of the traffic of the busy corridor. “Sure.”

  Tiny sucking noises emitted from Alex’s throat. His bright gaze settled on Russo’s chrome pen.

  “About your patient, do you believe she has amnesia?”

  “Why would she fake it?” Jeff countered.

  “There’s all kinds of reasons. She could have had a fight with a boyfriend and needed a place to hide out. She could have killed someone with her missing gun. She could be crazy.”

  “She’s not crazy. Her actions are those of a determined, logical and frightened woman.”

  “Exactly my point, Doc. But what’s she got to be scared of?”

  “Imagine waking up in a hospital. Your head hurts. You can’t remember how you got there, what happened to you or who you are. Have you any idea how frightening it must be to have no family, no friends, no roots?”

  “But could she be fooling you?” Russo pressed. “You don’t have physical proof of her amnesia, do you?”

  Jeff had had enough aspersions cast on his patient. Drawing himself up to his full six feet plus, he wrapped himself in a forbidding air of professionalism. “Do you think she faked a coma, too?”

  “You tell me. Is that possible?”

  Alex squirmed and Jeff shifted the baby to his other arm. “EEG’s don’t lie.”

  “What about her head wound?”

  “What about it?” Chelsea had enough problems without being badgered by the cop. Alex indicated a restlessness by waving his arms, so Jeff rested him against his shoulder.

  “What caused the injury?”

  “It’s impossible to say. She could have fallen or been struck from behind.”

  “What about the bruises on her arm?”

  “She probably sustained those when she fell.” Alex burped and Jeff rubbed his back. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  Russo shrugged with irritating nonchalance. “Seems like a big coincidence that she had the accident at the same house where her best friend was murdered.”

  Jeff hid his reaction to that statement behind his professional calm. He didn’t like the man’s insinuation. He seemed to be implying Chelsea was somehow responsible for her own injury. All his protective instincts rose, and his eyes narrowed. “Then maybe you should be checking out the neighbors as carefully as my patient. Is that all, Officer? This little fellow needs to be put to bed.”

  Alex yawned and burped again.

  The officer hitched his pants over his stomach. “I’ll be in touch.”

  As Russo strode away, the baby spit up. Just as Jeff had thought, the baby was wound up tight from all the moving around he’d been doing.

  “Yeah, little guy, this whole situation is making me sick to my stomach, too.”

  He hurried toward the nursery, unable to banish doubts about Chelsea. True to his profession, the police officer had assumed a worst-case scenario, but his patient’s wounds were typical of someone who’d pitched forward and struck her head, using her arms at the last minute to break her fall.

  But just because she hadn’t been attacked didn’t mean she hadn’t been in trouble. And she had more unanswered questions about her life and background than a resident could ask a first-year student during rounds.

  To make matters worse, Jeff had a bad feeling about the missing gun.

  DESPITE CHELSEA’S exhaustion, she didn’t immediately fall asleep after Dr. Kendall left with Alex. As she struggled to make sense of what had happened since she’d awakened in the hospital, her thoughts swirled like snowflakes that refused to settle on a windy day.

  The amnesia left her without a foundation from which to view the world. She could hear, smell, see, taste and touch, but each sensation seemed new and fresh, with no basis for comparison in her past—like a new or altered reality.

  What was a person without the sum of her life’s experiences? Without memories to anchor her, she was lost, alone, afraid.

  Stop it.

  She had her health, her intellect, her instincts. Until her memories returned, she would survive with what she had. She’d rest, regain her strength and think of ways to search out clues about herself.

  Once she returned home, she would seek out her past. Surely she would find people who could tell her what she needed to know. She would have to be patient. She grinned, somehow suspecting she’d never mastered that particular virtue.

  Perhaps she could use her amnesia to develop new qualities. Like a blind person depending on their hearing, she would have to develop other instincts and respond to small clues to make up for her memory loss. Instead of a handicap, she should consider her lack of memory a chance to view her life with fresh vision.

  Her past was like a slate wiped clean—no, not quite. There were some mysteries that carried over from her past to her present. Like why she’d been carrying a gun.

  Picturing a weapon compact enough to fit in her purse, she tried to fill in the missing details. Had she learned how to use the weapon? Was the gun black or chrome? What had happened to it? Not one mental picture returned.

  Relief that the gun was no longer in her possession seeped through her. Hoping the missing weapon never turned up, she shuddered, unable to master her instinctive revulsion. Besides, a weapon would be dangerous with a child living with her.

  Chelsea pictured the baby’s face, his bright, inquisitive eyes, his darling dimples and lashes already long enough to flirt. And her baby was smart. When she had held him, Alex had obviously recognized Chelsea’s inexperience. Her lack of confidence h
ad made Alex insecure.

  Ah, but she would learn. Her mothering instinct was strong. She’d heard some mothers bonded the first time they held their child. She could well believe it. Although the little bundle had seemed awkward in her arms, she already hungered to hold him again.

  Alex wasn’t yet too mobile, and that should make caring for him easier. He couldn’t sit up or crawl. And she shouldn’t need a master’s in education to keep a baby fed, diapered and bathed. Of course, sharing the responsibility would be easier if the baby had a father.

  Alex deserved a man like Dr. Jeffrey Kendall—gentle, understanding yet protective. The doctor had gone out of his way to help without being condescending. He’d held Alex with the ease of experience. Those goofy faces he’d made had ended the baby’s tears and endeared him to Chelsea. Who would not admire a man who didn’t mind appearing silly to stop a baby’s cries?

  Was Dr. Kendall accustomed to children because he was a physician? Or did he have kids at home?

  She didn’t recall seeing a wedding ring. But she wouldn’t make assumptions. Perhaps a band of gold wouldn’t fit beneath the latex gloves doctors wore during operations.

  The almost inaudible beeping of the heart monitor relaxed her. With visions of Dr. Kendall pushing the baby on a swing, Chelsea drifted into exhausted sleep.

  She dreamed a perfect film commercial, the kind where years flash by in snapshots. Alex’s first tooth, his kindergarten graduation, standing on a podium in a swimsuit with a winner’s ribbon around his neck, prom night with a date, a wedding.

  Suddenly, amid dancing wedding guests, a demon arose, its eyes shooting red flames. The guests panicked, running, screaming and diving out windows. Chelsea tried to run, but her feet were rooted to the floor.

  Just when she thought the flames would singe her, the demon turned into a woman’s face. She had sad eyes, crinkled at the corners, brown hair twisted back in a ponytail, and she kept licking her thin lips.

  “You promised me,” she whispered, her voice and image beginning to fade.

  “What?” Chelsea asked, confused.