Forever a Father Page 2

  For her effort, Joan received another uncertain stare. “Didn’t you ever do that, Dr. Delaney?”

  He pressed his lips together and slowly shook his head. “Can’t say I ever have.”

  Resigned, she shrugged. “Maybe that was only my generation. Anyway, that’s the way it seems these days. Every doctor report I get either begins or ends with the phrase for your a—”

  “In bed?” Keela teased.

  Mrs. Haverhill gave an uncharacteristic chuckle. And that was another thing he liked about his employee. She was quick-witted.

  “In that case, I want you to do these four exercises I’ve just shown you, three times a day...” Keela gestured for Joan to finish the sentence.

  “...in bed.” The lady winked at Daniel.

  “Yes. Well, on a bed, actually. Or better yet, on this mat.” Keela breezed to the cubicles that lined the hallway, which thankfully weren’t depleted like the supply shelves, and grabbed a bright pink yoga mat.

  Having clearly won over the usually reticent client with the parting gift—another touch Daniel was proud to offer his patients but was worried he’d have to give up if business didn’t pick up soon—Keela received a smile from Mrs. Haverhill, who took the mat and headed for the door to the waiting room. “Thank you.”

  “Have a great week!”

  “In bed or for a woman my age?” Joan snickered as she went out.

  Keela stood watching the client leave for a moment, then turned toward Daniel with a satisfied smile.

  How could he not smile back? “Good work.”

  As assistant physical therapists went, Daniel had known from the start she was damn good. It was the rest of the package that made him uncomfortable. The woman part.

  Especially after Kathryn, who’d been responsible for his deciding to come back home. He’d asked her to move to Sandpiper Beach with him, so they could heal together. Instead she’d left, essentially gutting him.

  “Thanks, boss.” Keela saluted and gathered the batch of paperwork for the next appointment. He’d asked her to see a few extra clients this afternoon so he could concentrate on his pitch for tomorrow. If he could land the 4Cs account, he’d be sitting pretty, with a never-ending flow of young athletes through his office doors. He needed to get it right.

  Keela’s phone rang and she stepped inside her office to answer it. With the copier going, Daniel couldn’t hear the conversation, but as he gazed through the large office window, he noticed her brows were lowered. She said something else, then glanced toward the ceiling in a frustrated manner while listening. Just as his copies were done, she hung up, her shoulders slumped and her usual smile inverted. “Thanks for the too-late heads-up,” she raised her voice to the phone on her desk.

  No sooner had she stepped into the hallway than a little girl barreled through the doorway from reception, an older woman at her heels. Keela’s face lit up when she saw the child. “Hi, Anna,” she sang, bending and giving her a hug.

  Up until now Daniel had just seen pictures of Keela’s daughter on her desk. That, he could handle, but seeing her in person sent a painful jolt straight through his chest. He flinched, then quickly got a grip, though thanks to his recent history, looking at her felt like slowing down at a car accident. Man, she was small, with the kind of little-kid smile that belonged on a billboard. A junior version of her mother’s. He diverted his gaze to the paperwork in his hands.

  “Thanks for dropping by on your way to your appointment, Mrs. Jenkins.” Acting upbeat seemed to be second nature to Keela, but this time it didn’t ring true.

  Daniel stacked his handouts in a huge pile and started for his office, and shortly afterward the woman left, leaving Anna behind. He tried not to notice.

  He’d just plopped the copies on his desk when he felt someone behind him. Keela stood at his office entrance, an anxious expression on her face, her daughter at her side. “I need to ask you a huge favor,” she said. “My ex-husband was supposed to take Anna for the afternoon and evening, but he only just now called and canceled, and Mrs. Jenkins has an appointment to get her hair colored.”

  Daniel dreaded what he suspected was coming. His usual, nearly daily struggle with his loss had lightened up lately, thanks to the distraction of responsibilities with the clinic, but the mere sight of the impish little girl managed to decimate in a few seconds what progress he’d made over the past year. Slipping into defense mode, he went practical.

  “You can leave her in your office if you need to.”

  “Uh, no, she’s only four.”

  “I’m almost five.” The child’s tiny hand shot up, all five fingers worth, which clawed at his achy heart. He had to admit the kid was cute, with loads of curls and big brown eyes, but...

  “She needs supervision.”

  No. No. No. Not a good day for this. “Do you want to cancel your afternoon appointments? It’s kind of late.” Keep thinking about the business. That, I can handle. But if he took over her schedule, he wouldn’t have the time he’d allotted to practice his pitch for tomorrow.

  “No!” Alarm made Keela’s large iceberg-blue eyes grow huge. “I wouldn’t leave you in a bind like that. I’ve got four more patients to see, and I intend to see them.” She chewed her lip, her daughter holding her hand and staring up at her. The innocent party. “Is there any chance you could look after her for the next hour?”

  What? I’ve got things to do. Presentations to prepare for. I don’t do kids. But he wasn’t that big of a jerk, was he? Keela was his employee of the month, every month. Hell, every day! She needed a favor, and he was it. “I guess she can sit in here while I work.” He didn’t even try to sound okay with the idea, and put the emphasis on work, as tension crept up his neck.

  “Thank you!” she said, with such relief that he felt bad for his contrary attitude, even as early signs of panic set in. But he had a presentation to prepare for! He would just ignore the kid and soon the hour would be over.

  “Let’s not make a habit of it.” The thought of spending forced time with the little girl sent an ice pick straight through his heart. Would he ever get beyond it?

  “Never my intention, Daniel. I’m just stuck in the middle today.”

  He clenched his molars. Yeah, he got that. Now he was, too, but childcare wasn’t part of their employment agreement. He had a business to run. It was his lifeline. “Okay, kid, have a seat.”

  The little girl looked to her mother, who dropped to her knees and gazed at her, eye to eye. “Be a good girl for Dr. Delaney. Mommy needs to work, okay?”

  Anna nodded, as serious as a little kid could be. Keela took the tiny, tangerine-colored backpack covered in animated movie characters off the child’s shoulders, unzipped it and fished out some crayons and a coloring book. “You can make some nice pictures for Daddy for when you see him next.” Then she escorted the girl to the chair opposite Daniel’s desk. The one he reserved for his patients. There was a small table with assorted magazines next to it. She could color on that. She was so tiny, and probably worried about the big mean-faced man. He tried to smile to ease her concerns, but failed. It wasn’t her fault she’d been stuck with him, old mean-face, who was still hurting and lost and, so far, unable to move on.

  Anna didn’t seem too interested in drawing for her dad, but Keela opened the book to a specific page. She left for the therapy room on a wave of that vanilla herb scent, with a relived “thank you” on her breath, and thankfully, the child went right to work on her coloring.

  Okay, so far so good. He’d survive, he’d get through this, and before he knew it, the time would be over. Think defense. He checked his watch, then got back to the task at hand, ignoring the kid.

  “What are you doing?” The slow, inquisitive words broke his concentration. He tensed. Again.

  “Uh, I’m working on a project.”

  “Can I help?”

  He stapled pages
together from the large stack waiting on his desk. Daniel wanted to breeze through the mindless job in record time so he could practice his presentation until he knew it backward and forward. But there she was, standing next to his desk. He stopped and glanced at the kid, noting her hopeful dark eyes, her obvious eagerness to get involved. Man, ignoring her was tough. “Uh, okay. Can you push this down hard enough to go through the papers?”

  He placed the stapler at the upper left corner of the next four-page packet on his desk. She was too short to reach it, so he held the stapler out to her, trying to keep some distance. Not the right angle, and zero support. She climbed up on his lap, and he instantly regretted it. How tiny she was, yet full of life, how...

  Bang, she whopped that stapler like a professional, surprising him. “Good.” If they worked fast, this would soon be over.

  A minute later she’d completed the task, with his guidance, and somehow he’d survived. “And that’s it. Thanks. Now you can go back to your coloring.” He immediately removed the child from his lap, finally able to relax and take a deep breath.

  It occurred to him he might stick Abby, the receptionist, with Anna for a while. But Keela had asked him to do the job, and he’d already assigned Abby to update client records this afternoon, which involved calling former and current patients on the phone. Otherwise known as drumming up more business. She couldn’t very well do that, check in the arriving patients and watch a kid, too. And he’d cleared most of his afternoon specifically so he could work on his 4Cs pitch for tomorrow morning.

  “I don’t want to.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want to color. Is that a fountain?”

  Looking out the door, she said the word slowly—“foun-tan.” Yes, it was. It was in the hallway and she was welcome to go get a drink so he could get back to what he needed to do. “Yes. Help yourself.”

  Anna scooted out of the room in her pink leggings and tutu, her sneakers squeaking on the tile. It was kind of cute, but he ignored the thought. Too damn painful. Instead he gave a sigh of relief that he was alone again and focused on his speech.

  “I need help!” She used her outdoor voice, which startled him, and he jumped out of his chair to assist her by lifting her under the arms. Man, she was light, hardly weighed anything. So vulnerable and completely dependent on him. So trusting. Precious. She pushed the button for water, but her mop of curls got in the way. Her face got wet and she giggled. He almost smiled.

  “Here,” he said, balancing her on his bent knee and thigh, and holding her hair out of the way with one hand. She slurped to her heart’s content, coming up only when she needed to breathe.

  “Tastes good.”

  He thought quickly. “I can fill up a cup for you. That’ll be easier.”

  “No...” She dragged out the word. “I do it this way.”

  And there he stood, letting his PT’s daughter drown herself in icy foun-tan water, braving brain freeze for fun.

  “All done,” she finally said, so he set her down and felt immediate relief. Now maybe he could get back to work.

  “I have to pee.”

  He scrunched up his face, didn’t even try to hide his reaction. Was this really happening? “Do you know how to do that by yourself?” Because there was no way he was getting involved in that.

  “I’m almost five!” Up went the hand.

  “Okay.” Whatever that meant. He took her lifted hand, walked her to the unisex bathroom and nudged her inside. She gave him an exasperated glance, then pointed to the toilet seat cover container on the wall, too high for her to reach. He stepped inside, but only long enough to put the thin paper cover on the toilet, then turned to leave while again thinking how small she was and hoping she wouldn’t fall in. Before he closed the door, she was already pulling down her leggings and underpants.

  “Wait, wait, wait!” He couldn’t help raising his voice, but seeing alarm on her face, he toned it down. “Let me leave first, okay?”

  “Okeydoke.” So easily appeased.

  He stood outside the bathroom door for what seemed like forever, marveling at the innocence of children and how they needed to be protected. There went the stab to his heart again. He checked his watch, listening to make sure she hadn’t fallen into that toilet bowl, but mostly wishing he was in his office doing what he was supposed to be doing. Unfortunately, his thoughts got stuck somewhere between loss and grief, pain and dangerously close to do-not-enter territory.

  He pushed the feelings down, insisting he could do this. She was an innocent kid and he was the adult in the room. Soon he heard a flush. “I can’t reach it!” she yelled.

  He tried to open the door. How had she managed to lock it without him hearing? “Let me in so I can help.”

  “What?” she yelled over the running toilet water.

  “Let me in.” Instead of raising his voice, he lowered it, not wanting to draw attention to the predicament, or alert Keela that he’d already screwed up.

  With the toilet flushing, she spent a few seconds opening the door, long enough to have Daniel wondering where he kept the emergency bathroom key. Once it was open, she beamed up at him as if she’d just completed the most amazing undertaking of her life.

  Daniel stepped into the small bathroom and immediately turned on the water. “I’m going to teach you a trick,” he said, putting the toilet lid down. “Stand on this.” Anything to avoid holding her again.

  She crawled up, then leaned forward to use the adjacent sink.

  “See? Isn’t that better?”

  She tossed him a look that proved he was a true genius. But he still smarted from the last time he’d picked her up.

  Anna clapped her hands beneath the stream of water. He jumped back to avoid getting wet, then guided her to the liquid soap and showed her how to lather up. “Make bubbles. That’s how we doctors do it.”

  “You’re smart!” Why did everything she say come out like an exclamation? Still, her compliment caught him off guard and he cracked a smile for the first time that afternoon. Okay, so she was kind of cute.

  He glanced at his watch again. All of fifteen minutes had passed since he’d been handed the job of childcare provider, and Keela wouldn’t be through until five. Now what should they do?

  * * *

  Keela stepped out of the therapy room, escorting her last patient back to the waiting room. She glanced in Daniel’s office as she passed, but he and Anna weren’t there. Worry flashed briefly. She followed the patient through the door and asked Abby where they were.

  The receptionist didn’t have a chance to respond before the front doors of the clinic flew open and in waltzed Daniel and Anna, half-eaten ice cream cones in their hands. He looked up, and rather than seem guilty about feeding a child ice cream right before dinnertime, his expression clearly read Thank God you’re done.

  Anna ran to her mother. “We had fun!”

  “You did?” Surprised, she smiled, fixing her daughter’s hair, tightening the lopsided bow and only then daring to look at Daniel again—who stood licking the remnants of his cone, ignoring both of them.

  “Okay. So my job here is done,” he said coolly, when he finally noticed her watching him. Then, business as usual, he walked to his office without another word.

  She’d imposed her daughter on him, and what could she expect—that he’d love it? Thank the heavens it had ended well and she still had a job. But a flare of sadness made her think how Anna’s own father hardly ever wanted to spend time with her. At least Daniel had taken her for ice cream, maybe not because he wanted to, but because he was a decent guy. That alone made him different from her ex.

  “Say thank you, Anna.” She guided her daughter to his office door, intent on showing her manners.

  “Thank you!”

  He looked surprised, maybe a little bothered by the interruption. Anything he’d done for her daugh
ter had been purely out of duty, that was obvious. Maybe he wasn’t so different from Ron.

  “You’re welcome. Okay, sport,” he said nonchalantly, “remember to pump your feet out when you go forward and in when you swing back. Then you can swing really high.” By the end of the sentence, he’d already gone back to focusing on his computer screen.

  But that didn’t seem to faze Anna. She gathered her backpack, put her crayons and coloring book inside, then zipped it.

  Did he just say swing really high? How high? Keela wondered, helping her daughter put her backpack over her shoulders. “Did you color Dad a picture?” she asked.

  “No. We did lots of other stuff.” Anna reached for her mother’s hand, oblivious to Daniel’s lack of attention, then let Keela lead her out the door. “He taught me to swing so high! He said I shouldn’t ’spect him to do all the work.”

  “I didn’t say it that mean,” he interjected, without lifting his head.

  So he was listening. Keela glanced over her shoulder at Daniel, in his own world, clacking away on computer keys, pretending to ignore them. That guy taught you how to swing? They continued down the hall.

  “We looked at bugs and he let me hold a caterpillar and...” She babbled on with a lengthening list of everything they’d done. A surprisingly long list, too. Daniel?

  “Is that so,” Keela said, guiding her daughter toward the car.

  Things didn’t add up. Daniel couldn’t have ignored Anna all afternoon and still won over her clear adoration. He’d taken her to the nearby park and bought her ice cream from the parlor three doors up. Shown her bugs and who knew what else. The child was practically dancing with joy. Of course, that could have something to do with the sugar high from the cone. Truth was, Anna never came home from the occasional visits with her father happy like this.

  Keela tightened the belt on Anna’s car seat, closed the back door and slipped behind the steering wheel, turning the key on the old but dependable sedan.