Dianne Drake - P.S. You're a Daddy!

“Not Porcupine,” he finally said.

She was so relieved to hear his voice. “If it’s not Porcupine, is it … Bulldog?”

“Not Bulldog,” he said, tears welling up in his eyes.

She began a gentle prodding of his limbs, no heightened pain sensitivity noted. Then his belly. Not rigid, no distension. “Kangaroo?” she asked, trying to move him slightly to his side to make sure nothing was sticking into him in any way, like shards of glass from the shattered windshield or objects that might have flown around the car. But he was clear of everything, and she was beginning to wonder if he’d been curled up on the floor of the car when this had happened. Maybe asleep?

He whimpered something Deanna didn’t understand but which she took to be him asking for his mommy. Glancing over the seat to the lifeless form, she drew in a ragged breath. “Mommy needs to rest right now. So does Daddy. So I’m going to open this car then we’ll get out very quietly so we won’t disturb them. Will you help me do that, Kangaroo?”

“Not Kangaroo.”

“Is it Hippopotamus?” she asked, as she pushed on the car door then climbed out. “Or Walrus?”

Leaning back in, she scooped the boy into her arms and lifted him away from the wreckage, taking great care to make sure his face was buried in her shoulder. What an awful thing, seeing your parents that way and having that memory linger as your last memory of them. Her parents had died this way, in a car wreck. But she hadn’t been in the car, and her very last recollection of them was the hugs and kisses they had given her when they’d dropped her off at her aunt and uncle’s house. Hugs, kisses, and I love yous shouted from the car window as they’d pulled away from the curb … “I personally like Cheetah, or Chimpanzee.”

“It’s Lucas,” the child said, but so quietly it was more a muffled sob than a word.

Did he know? Did he have some innate feeling that he’d just become an orphan? She hadn’t when it had happened to her. In fact, it had taken months to sink in, months in which she’d spent every minute she could with her face pressed to the window, watching for them to come back.

Deanna didn’t know about Lucas, though. Didn’t know if he had an innate feeling, or just plain knew, because she didn’t know a thing about children. She’d never been around them except for a few mandatory clinical rotations through pediatrics, and she’d certainly never planned on having them herself. She’d never been struck with that maternal urge the way Emily had. While it had defined her cousin, it had eluded her. So motherhood had never been included in her life plan—a decision she’d been fine with.

Of course, Emily’s baby changed all that. Still, she wasn’t consumed with an innate sense of motherhood the way she’d expected to be, the way she’d seen it in so many other women she’d known. The way Janice Parsons was when she bundled Lucas into her arms so protectively the instant Deanna handed him over to her.

“I think he’s OK,” she said, a little envious of the way the boy went from her embrace to someone else’s so easily. Hadn’t she snuggled him the right way? “His name is Lucas, and I’ll have the doctor do another exam on him as soon as he can. In the meantime, if you could …”

There was no sense in finishing the sentence. Janice’s mothering instincts were on full alert as she turned Lucas away from the wreckage. All that natural tendency—a beautiful thing to see, really. “Don’t give him anything to eat or drink,” she said, taking one last look at the boy then at Janice, envying the way she exuded motherliness from every pore.

Would that ever be her?

That thought plagued her as she ran over to the edge of the road where the guardrail was smashed and broken, then looked down. Thank God, the drop-off to the first ledged area was barely more than a hundred feet. Sure, it was a long distance if you were in the car going over it, but the distance was short enough that she was cautiously optimistic.

“Hello,” she shouted. “Can anybody hear me?”

The response was one staccato honk, which came as pure relief. But also frustration, knowing she couldn’t make that climb down. Thank heavens some kind of natural instinct had kicked in and kept her planted on terra firma , because her natural inclination would have had her over the side before she’d even given it a thought. She still wondered, though, if that instinct would be enough in the long term because, dear God, everything in her wanted her to go over that edge.

“Help’s on the way,” she shouted, actually taking a step backwards. “Please, don’t move. And if you have a cellphone …” She called out her number and actually stood there for a second, waiting for a call back. Which didn’t come. “I’m going to go get the doctor. We also have the fire department on the way. So don’t give up. We’re going to get you out of there in a few minutes.”

“Truck driver’s wedged,” Beau said, the instant Deanna rounded the front of the truck. He was standing on the asphalt, looking through the windshield at the driver, who was stuck fast between the steering-wheel and the seat. “Internal injuries, some bleeding. Broken arm. Mangled leg … not sure if it can be saved. Head trauma but conscious. Strong possibility of hemorrhagic shock once we get him out. I can’t do anything about it until we have more help.

“I’d stay in there with him but it’s too tight and I don’t want to risk slipping or moving the wrong way and hurting him more than he already is.”

“We’ve got survivors in the car that went over,” she said, trying to sound positive.

“Were you able to get down there?” he asked, his eyes glued to what was visible of the man in the truck.

“No, but someone honked.”

“So all we need is …”

“Everything,” Deanna said. “All we need is everything.” She studied the man next to her for a moment. Mid-thirties, but with some lines etched in his face. Dark brown hair, a bit over the collar and wavy. Brown eyes. The kinds of things that would have been included on the sperm-donor card—had there been a donor card. But in addition to the sperm switch, the donor card had gone missing.

What wouldn’t have been described on that card, though, was the kindness she saw in his eyes. From that, she was drawn in immediately. Not that his good looks alone couldn’t have done it but those were an added bonus, gave her some hope for the way Emily’s child might look. “My name is Deanna Lambert. But I’m betting you already knew that, didn’t you?”

He smiled, although he didn’t even glance in her direction. “You’re renting a cabin here for a month to do some medical writing. Live in New York City otherwise.”

“And my zodiac sign?”

He chuckled. “Give me ten more minutes and I’ll not only tell you your zodiac sign, I’ll describe your high-school graduation in detail.”

“That bad here?” she asked.

“Or good, depending on your point of view. The people here describe it as caring and, for the most part, I think that’s right.” Finally, he glanced at her, but for only a second. “I’m Beau Alexander, by the way. Local and possibly temporary doctor, aspiring horse breeder, mender of fences.”

She’d known who he was, but hearing the name— from him— still shocked her, made her reason for being here even more real. Scared her, too. Most of all it made her feel sad, thinking about the way such a happy pregnancy was turning out. “I think I may be renting the cabin above your ranch.”

“Above the Clouds. Nice view. Been up there a couple of—”

His words were cut off by the ringing of Deanna’s cellphone, and without thinking she clicked it on. Listened for a second. Drew in a deep breath. “It’s the people in the car,” she said to Beau.