Jacqueline Diamond - A Baby for the Doctor

“What an ordeal.” When the light changed, Anya transitioned onto the boulevard, passing a darkened veterinary clinic and a flower shop that supplied the hospital gift boutique.

“We haven’t seen the girls for six years. Then, this evening, Rod got a call from my older niece, Tiffany. She ran away from her home in San Diego and asked him to pick her up at the Fullerton train station.” That was about a two-hour journey from San Diego.

Anya swung onto a side street. “How old is she?”

“Twelve.” He only had a few photos of Tiff from years ago, a little girl with Orphan Annie red hair and a big smile. “It’s hard to visualize what she must look like now.”

“Twelve is awfully young. Why’d she run away?”

“No idea.” His phone rang. Plucking it from his pocket, Jack saw his uncle’s name on the screen. “Hey.”

“Change of plans. I’m taking Tiffany to her grandmother’s house.” Rod must be speaking into his wireless device because it was illegal in California to hold a cell phone while driving. “Less risk of legal complications that way. Can you meet us there? You remember where Helen lives?”

“Vaguely.” Portia’s mother had joined the family for holiday celebrations and had once hosted a Fourth of July party at her bungalow. Jack recalled Helen as a kind, quiet woman overshadowed by her forceful daughter.

A girl’s voice piped up in the background. “Is that Uncle Jack? Hi, Uncle Jack!”

“Hi, pumpkin.”

“Hi to you too, squash-kins,” his uncle said drily. “I mean, as long as we’re using vegetables as terms of endearment.”

“Very funny. What’s the address?”

Rod provided it. Jack’s phone showed it to be in the northwest corner of Safe Harbor near the freeway. “Anya, I have another favor to ask.”

“Anya’s driving you home?” His uncle sounded peevish.

“Who’s Anya?” Tiffany piped in. “Can I meet her?”

“End of conversation,” Jack said and clicked off. This was far too confusing, and, besides, he needed to focus on winning Anya’s cooperation. “How about lending me your car after I drop you at home?”

“How far away is this?” she asked.

“Just a few miles.” The alternative was to call a cab, which meant waiting heaven knows how long. In Southern California, where private vehicles outnumbered people, taxi drivers concentrated their efforts on servicing airports and hotels.

And he didn’t have the time to waste. No doubt Helen was already dialing her daughter. Portia and her husband, a private equity investor reported to be worth close to a billion dollars, would take a private plane or helicopter to collect the runaway, which left only a window of an hour or so for Jack to connect with her.

Anya hadn’t spoken again. “I don’t want to lose this chance to see Tiffany.” The ragged emotion in his tone surprised Jack. “It’s important she understands that she’s welcome here and that we love her. I’m afraid that next time, if there’s a next time, she might go off on her own.”

The fate of young runaways in metropolitan areas had been the subject of a recent lecture at the hospital. Staff pediatrician Samantha Forrest had presented a horrifying picture of predators trolling for young girls and boys who’d landed on the streets.

Now that he thought about it, he’d seen Anya at the lecture, too. Surely she understood his concern.

She appeared to be mulling the request as they reached their complex—a half-dozen two-story apartment buildings separated by tree-shaded walkways. In the carport area, Anya halted, her expression shadowed in the thin lighting.

“I’d like to meet her,” she said.

“Not a good idea.” This was private family business.

“She might talk more freely to a woman than to a couple of guys,” Anya said.

“Her grandmother’s there.”

“I wouldn’t discuss anything personal or uncomfortable around my grandmother,” she replied. “Jack, I remember what my sisters were like at that age. You and your uncle are great guys, and I’m sure her grandmother loves this girl like crazy, but it’s important right now that she be able to open up. What can it hurt to have me there?”

Anya did have a point. And he had to admire her willingness to step into such a delicate situation. Jack glanced at her profile: shapely nose, full mouth, firm chin. He needed her help and, besides, he wanted to spend more time with her. Why not seize the opportunity?

“Thanks. I’ll navigate, okay?” he said and relaxed as he saw her nod.

They were on the same page for once. That was a nice change.

Chapter Three

Spotting Jack’s hybrid sedan in front of a tidy bungalow, Anya knew this must be the place. She wedged her car into a slot at the curb.

What a pretty neighborhood, she thought as they got out. Some of the houses had a fairy-tale air, thanks to their gingerbread trim. Although of a simpler design, the grandmother’s cottage had appealing, old-fashioned shutters and an extended porch lit by a sconce-style lamp.

But as Anya hurried to catch up with Jack’s rapid pace, she noticed spiderwebs festooning the corners of the front windows. Surely the elderly lady would keep those wiped clear if she were physically capable of it.

The door flew open and a young girl’s eager face appeared, her red hair in thick braids. “Uncle Jack!” She threw her arms around him with such enthusiasm that he had to step backward.

“Tiff? I can’t believe that’s you.” After hugging the girl, he took a long look. “You’ve grown into a young lady.”

She smoothed down her navy blazer and tan skirt, evidently a school uniform. “Come in.”

“Somebody’s blocking my path,” he teased.

“Okay, okay.” As Tiffany danced inside, her gaze fell on Anya. “Is this your girlfriend? She’s pretty! And you’re handsome, isn’t he, Anya?”

“Most of the nurses seem to think so,” she replied, slipping into the room behind them.

Inside, Rod’s eyes glittered in the light from the chandelier as he greeted them. Surely those couldn’t be tears. Anya had never seen the sardonic anesthesiologist show so much emotion.

The rectangular room encompassed both living and dining areas and had antique-style furnishings. Dusty curio cabinets displayed a charming collection of china plates and cups, while a built-in counter in the dining area held a nativity scene. As the girl’s grandmother approached, her small, arthritis-curled hands revealed why she hadn’t packed the holiday decorations or removed those outside spiderwebs. Why didn’t her married-to-a-billionaire daughter spring for a housekeeper?

“Anya’s a nurse who works with Rod and me,” Jack explained as he introduced her to the grandmother, Helen Pepper. Slim and silver-haired, Helen wore a mint-green embellished top and pull-on pants that would be easy for those gnarled hands to manage.

“I’m very glad to meet you,” she told Anya earnestly.

Anya took the extended hands gently. “You have a beautiful home.”

“Anya was kind enough to give me a ride,” Jack added. “Since Rod commandeered my car.”

“When I heard my little girl’s voice on the phone, I couldn’t think about anything but rushing to the rescue,” his uncle admitted. “It’s a good thing the CHP didn’t clock my speed on the freeway.”

“I’m sorry I had patients, or I’d have driven you,” Jack said. “Tiff, I want you to know that Rod moved heaven and earth to try to gain custody, or at least visitation. These past few years have been torture.”

Tiffany nodded vigorously. “I was convinced Mom and Vince must have lied to me.”

“Lied about what?” Jack asked.

“Well, I didn’t get it at first. I was only six.” The girl took a deep breath. “They told Amber and me our dad rejected us because we weren’t really his.”