Saving Dr. Ryan Read online

  “Madelyn Mae Kincaid.”

  “Age?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “Is that the truth?”

  She blew out a breath. “You can check my driver’s license if you don’t believe me. Which is in my coat pocket with my change purse.”

  So she was a few years older than he’d thought. Still awfully damn young to be a mother three times over, though.

  “Address?”

  Her resultant silence gave him no choice but to look over. She was frowning down at the baby. “Maddie?”

  After a moment, she met his gaze. “I guess I don’t have one, just at the moment. Well, unless you count the Double Arrow.”

  The Double Arrow. His brother Hank’s place. Wasn’t the Hilton—hell, it wasn’t even a Motel 6—but she’d been safe there, at least. However, even cheap motels ate up money at a good clip. Money he suspected she didn’t have. “Where were you before?”

  “Arkansas. Little Rock.” She made a face. “We moved there from Fayetteville after Noah was born…” Something in her expression led Ryan to believe there was more, but then she said, “I came here to find my husband’s great-uncle. Maybe you know him? Ned McAllister?”

  “Ned? You’re kidding? He’s kin to you?”

  “Like I said, by marriage. I…we’ve never actually met.” Then she paled even more, if that was possible. “Oh, no…he didn’t die or anything, did he?”

  Ryan let out a soft laugh. “Ned? I imagine that old buzzard’ll outlive me. But his bones aren’t as strong as they used to be. Broke his hip last week, so he’s in the hospital over in Claremore. Which is where he’ll be for some time, at least until he’s finished up his physical therapy.”

  “Oh!” With that one word, Ryan could see Maddie’s last shred of hope vaporize. She looked down at the baby, her hand trembling when she stroked the infant’s cheek. “He never had a phone—well, I suppose you know that—and all I had was a P.O. box for an address. I knew I was taking a chance, just coming on out here like this, but there was absolutely nobody else….”

  Pride and panic were a helluva combination, weren’t they?

  The baby had fallen asleep. Ryan leaned over and gently removed her from Maddie’s arms, making sure to keep the infant well swaddled in the double receiving blankets Ivy had brought, even though the heat had taken the chill off the house by now. She was diapered, too—Ryan always kept packages of disposables in his office to accommodate his littler patients. And their sometimes forgetful mothers.

  He sure did have a soft spot for the babies, he admitted to himself as he smiled at little Amy Rose, giving Mama a chance to regain control. Shoot, giving himself a chance to quash a feeling akin to hitting a patch of black ice.

  Lucky thing for him he was real good at steering out of the skids.

  “I’ve got some clothes for her, back at the motel,” Maddie said on a shaky breath. He glanced over at her, imagining how ticked she’d be if she had any idea how worn out she looked, lying there against the pillows. “I guess I kinda forgot them, once the pains hit.”

  Ryan felt one side of his mouth lift. “Understandable.”

  Maddie stayed quiet for a moment, her attention fixed on the baby, then let out a sigh. “Before you ask…my husband’s dead.”

  Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I, but not for the usual reasons.”

  He couldn’t quite decide if that was regret or anger flickering at the edges of her words. Maybe a bit of both.

  “He leave you broke?”

  Her laugh was humorless. And her lack of verbal response told him this was not a topic currently open for discussion.

  What kind of man left his wife and children this bad off?

  If Maddie Kincaid had started having babies at nineteen, it was highly doubtful she had much in the way of education or skills. What she did have was three little kids. And more courage than most men he knew. But here she was, in a strange town, the only person she knew in it medically incarcerated for the foreseeable future. And even so, what on earth good would Ned McCallister do her? Not only was the ornery old man the least likely candidate to take on a woman with three small children, but there was no way Maddie and her kids could live in that shack of his.

  What they had here was a crisis situation, no doubt about it. And Ryan had the sinking feeling that somehow, he had been the one appointed to handle said crisis.

  From the kitchen emanated the aroma of pancakes and coffee, Ivy’s commanding voice chattering to the children. A few hardy birds, oblivious to the fact that summer was over, chirped and twittered outside the window as the sun burned off what was left of the storm. Needing to move, to be doing something, Ryan laid the baby down in the bassinet he’d retrieved from his office before the delivery. There had to be an answer here. One that wouldn’t make his head hurt.

  “Your folks still around?”

  After a moment, she said, “I already told you. There’s nobody.”

  Don’t get overly involved with your patients. How many times had Ryan’s instructors drummed those words into his head? But if he didn’t believe healing was less about procedures and medicines and biological function, and more about giving a damn about the human beings who put themselves in his care, then those pieces of paper up on his wall in the other room meant squat.

  Of course, not many people understood that, any more than they understood that personal sacrifice came with the territory.

  Nor did Ryan understand quite what was happening here. Yes, he cared about his patients. All of them. Even old Miss Hightower, whose contrariness Ryan had long since attributed to a simple fear of growing old, of being alone. But this was different. Something about this one struck a personal chord way down deep, way past the day-to-day caring he dispensed, along with the occasional antibiotic and common sense advice, to his other patients.

  It had been a long, long time since anything had shaken him up the way this situation was threatening to. He didn’t know what he was going to do about it—about Maddie—but he sure as hell knew he didn’t like it, not one little bit.

  He patted the edge of the bassinet, twice, then started backing toward the doorway. “I think I’ll just go see what’s keeping Ivy in the kitchen, then go get myself cleaned up,” he said, wondering why the hell he felt so skittish in his own house.

  Chapter 2

  Maddie frowned at the doorway for some time after Dr. Logan’s departure. Despite his going on about her not leaving until he said it was okay, she was getting a real strong feeling he wasn’t all that comfortable with the idea. Although she guessed his reaction had less to do with her personally than it did with his just not being real used to having houseguests.

  That’s what she was going to go with, anyway.

  Crossing her arms over her wobbly belly, she surveyed her surroundings for the first time. Which provoked another strong feeling—that Dr. Logan was not someone overly concerned with his environment. Oh, she supposed the faded floral wallpaper, the coordinating murky drapes and dark-stained wood trim bordering the windows might’ve been okay, forty or fifty years ago. But if it hadn’t been for the sunlight glittering and dancing across the room, it would be downright depressing in here. And wasn’t that a shame? Far as she was concerned, everybody deserved a home that was cheerful and inviting. Especially someone as nice as Dr. Logan.

  Not that it was any of her business.

  On a sigh, Maddie carefully snuggled down on her side, watching her new daughter snoozing in the bassinet by the bed. She ached some from the couple of stitches she’d had to have, but not badly. Although she could feel the adrenaline that had been keeping her going the past couple of days quickly draining away. The baby scrunched up her tiny face in her sleep, pooching out her mouth, then giving one of those fluttery little gas smiles. Maddie smiled, too, skimming one finger over the itty-bitty furrowed brow. Maybe after a bath, Amy Rose would start looking more like a human baby—

  Just like that, a
fresh wave of worry washed over her. Maddie rolled onto her back, her hands pressed to her eyes, wishing like heck she could just let her mind go blank for a little while, even though she knew full well that things weren’t going to change simply because she didn’t want to think about them.

  All right, so she supposed necessity sometimes made a person confuse hope with reality, but still, it had been silly counting on being able to stay with Jimmy’s Uncle Ned. But what on earth was she going to do? She had fifty dollars to her name, twenty-four of which would go for the motel room. There was little point in going back to Arkansas, since she no longer had a home or knew anybody who could help her there. Which meant she had to stay here in Haven.

  If she did that, she could apply for assistance in Oklahoma…but who knew how long that would take to kick in? Or how much it would be?

  Or, if she got a job, which she wouldn’t be able to do for a few weeks at least, what was she going to do with the kids? How could she possibly afford full-time day care for the two younger ones, part-time for Noah while he was in school, on the kind of salary she was likely to get?

  She could maybe sell the car, get a few hundred bucks for it…but if she did that, how would she get around? Where were they going to live?

  What if they tried to take her children away?

  Maddie’s chest got all tight, like she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs: no matter how hard she tried to fit the pieces of what was left of her life together, they simply refused to go. For all intents and purposes, she and her babies were homeless.

  Homeless.

  Her hand flew to her mouth, but not fast enough to block the small cry of despair that escaped. It just seemed so blamed unfair. She wasn’t stupid. Or helpless. And heaven knew, she wasn’t lazy. Yet here she was, so far up the creek, she couldn’t even remember the feel of the paddle in her hands.

  Everything that could be sold had been, to pay bills, to pay off Jimmy’s debts. All they had were the few things in the trunk of the car—some household items, a couple of the kids’ favorite toys, some odds and ends she couldn’t even recall at the moment—and the two mangy looking suitcases filled with clothes so worn, Goodwill probably wouldn’t even take them. Take them back.

  A silent tear, then another, raced down her cheek: you know you’ve reached rock-bottom when you can’t even afford Wal-Mart.

  Approaching footsteps and whispered conversation galvanized her into hurriedly wiping her eyes on the hem of the Downy-scented sheet, then gingerly pulling herself upright. Even when her hormones weren’t all goofy, Maddie was a person who cried at the drop of a hat, feeling things deeply as she did. Jimmy had hated it with a purple passion, but that’s just the way she was. A second or two later, Ivy ushered in the children, Noah grinning over a bedtray heaped with pancakes, sausage, eggs, milk, juice.

  “Look what we brung you, Mama!”

  Maddie’s vision went fuzzy all over again when she caught sight of her son’s great big old grin, how bright his eyes were. Up until a few months ago, he’d been as likely to get into mischief as the next little boy—too smart for his own good, she’d been inclined to think on those days when he’d seemed hell-bent on driving her completely up the wall. She hadn’t fully realized until this moment how much she’d give to have a reason to fuss at him again, for him to feel confident enough to test his limits. And hers.

  And look at Katie Grace! The polar opposite of her rambunctious brother, who’d play quietly by herself for hours and hardly ever complained about anything, even Maddie’s quiet little baby doll was smiling.

  Some color had leeched back into their cheeks, too. Noah’s, especially. He’d always been fair-skinned, like she was, but he’d gotten so pale these past few months she was afraid people would start asking her if he was sick.

  “Ivy says you gotta eat it all,” Noah pronounced, the whole lot nearly spilling in his zeal to get it settled over her lap.

  Oh, my. It was more food than they’d seen since they left Little Rock two days ago. More than she’d seen at one time in months.

  “We’ll share,” she said to Noah, who had settled on the bed to study his baby sister, butt in the air, chin resting in his palms. Katie crawled up beside Maddie, snuggling against her side.

  “Oh, they already ate,” Ivy said, helping to arrange pillows behind Maddie’s back. She grinned down at Noah. “For such a little thing, he can sure pack it away. Five pancakes, two pieces of sausage, and two glasses of juice. And sweetie pie here got down a whole pancake and a piece of sausage.”

  The first bite of pancake stuck in Maddie’s throat: she’d been doing well to be sure they got peanut butter sandwiches every morning.

  And every night.

  A strong, comforting hand landed on her shoulder. “You’re here now,” Ivy said gently. “You and your babies are safe, you hear?”

  She nodded, swallowed. But the tears came anyway.

  A second later, she was engulfed by warmth and kindness like she hadn’t known since her foster mother’s house. In fact, Ivy reminded Maddie a bit of Grace Idlewild, who’d done her level best to give Maddie some stability in her life, who’d made her believe you could accomplish just about anything with hard work and determination.

  But right now, she didn’t need to be thinking about things she couldn’t change, so she decided to take what comfort she could against Ivy’s formidable bosom, barely hearing the midwife’s explaining away Maddie’s tears to her other babies as something that some ladies go through after they have a baby, that’s all, and they weren’t to think another thing about it.

  Then Ivy scooped Maddie’s new daughter into her arms. “You eat. I’ll get her cleaned up in the kitchen, where it’s nice and warm. Ryan told me you’ve got some clothes for her back at the Double Arrow, but I always bring a little undershirt and sacque with me, just in case. Come on, you two—let’s let Mama finish up her breakfast in peace.”

  Then they were gone, leaving Maddie alone with more food than she could eat in three meals and more worries than any one person should have to deal with in one lifetime.

  Ivy had changed the radio station on him.

  A frown bit into Ryan’s forehead as he walked into the warm, coffee-and-pancake scented kitchen, his hair still damp from his shower. Country music whined softly from the small radio on the windowsill; except for those times he needed to keep an ear out for the weather, he usually kept it on the classical station out of Tulsa, a habit inherited from his mother. Living alone had its definite advantages. Like being able to count on the radio station staying set where you left it.

  Not to mention being able to cross your own kitchen floor without dodging three other bodies. Generally Ryan considered himself pretty mellow, but he tended to get ornery when confronted with an obstacle course between him and his morning coffee. In fact, he nearly tripped over Noah, who for some reason decided to back up just as Ryan got behind him to reach for the coffee pot. Ryan grabbed the kid’s shoulders to keep them both upright; the boy jerked his head up, his eyes big, growing bigger still as Ryan scowled down at him. He hadn’t meant to, it was just that between his not being able to figure out what to do about Maddie and her kids and his caffeine withdrawal…

  Oh, hell.

  Ryan quickly rearranged his features into a smile, but the damage had been done: Noah dashed back to Ivy’s side like a frightened pup, glancing just once over his shoulder at Ryan before returning his full attention to Ivy.

  “What’s that?” the kid asked, pointing to the baby’s tummy.

  The midwife held the nearly naked baby in a secure football grip, suspended over the pockmarked porcelain sink as she gently sponged off the little head. “That’s her umbilical cord, honey,” Ivy said, patting the baby dry with a towel, then launching into a detailed description of placentas and umbilical cords that apparently fascinated Noah. For at least two seconds. Then having apparently recovered from his close encounter with the bogeyman, he wandered over to the back door and looked out into th
e large backyard. There wasn’t anything that would be of any interest to children, Ryan didn’t think—a bunch of overgrown oaks and maples, a badly neglected rose garden, a wooden shed—but Noah timidly asked if he and Katie Grace could go outside anyway. Ryan said he didn’t see why not, since the sun had come out, burning away at least some of the moisture from the leaf-strewn, fading grass.

  The children—and his first cup of coffee—gone, Ryan poured himself another mug, then leaned against the counter, squinting against the sunlight slashing through the curtainless, mullioned backdoor window as he watched Ivy in action. Little Amy Rose Kincaid, less than two hours old, was wide-awake, her dark eyes intent on Ivy’s face as the midwife dressed the infant in a miniscule T-shirt, booties and a plain yellow sacque with a drawstring bottom. The baby stared at her so hard, she nearly went cross-eyed. Ivy laughed.

  “Looks like she’s trying to figure me out.”

  “Tell her there’s a hundred bucks in it for her if she does.”

  Ivy rolled her eyes, then said, “Probably wondering what I did with her mama. Isn’t that right, precious?” She swaddled the baby up in a receiving blanket, scooped her up onto her shoulder. “Bet she’s gonna be a sleeper. Her Apgar was fine, by the way,” she added, then scowled at Ryan. “Probably better than yours would be right now. That your third cup of coffee?”

  “Second.” He frowned. “You keeping track?”

  “Well, shoot, boy, somebody’s got to. You’ve got some nerve, you know that, lecturing people about their diets when you still eat like a college kid yourself. And a dumb college kid, at that.”

  He shrugged. Took another swallow. “A doctor’s prerogative.”

  “Foolishness, more like.” She nodded toward the stove, ancient when Ryan had first seen it as a kid, more than twenty-five years ago. But it still worked. Apparently. Since he’d broken down and gotten a microwave last year, he avoided the thing almost as much as he did paperwork. “Go on,” Ivy urged. “There’s some sausage and scrambled eggs left. I’d make you pancakes, but I’ve got my hands full right now.”