Daddy On The Doorstep. Judy Christenberry
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if I join you?”
“You? I didn’t think you watched television.” She didn’t turn around, thinking that he might go away if she didn’t look at him.
“I don’t think I can make any deals tonight without a telephone or a fax, so I might as well relax.”
Unable to bear being close to him, afraid he might question her more, she swung around and tossed the channel changer to him. “Here. I think I’ll go to bed.”
He caught her arm as she rushed past him. “Come on, Andy. Sit down and watch television. I promise I’ll be quiet.”
And would he also promise not to touch her? Even as briefly as he held her arm, she could feel her blood racing, heating up. He had no interest in her, but she responded to his presence like a hound after a fox.
“I really don’t—”
“Andy.”
That one word, softly spoken, halted her protests. With a shrug, she tugged her arm away and walked back toward the television. But she didn’t sit on the sofa where she’d taken her earlier nap. No, she sat in the big chair, which was Bess’s favorite spot.
Nick settled on the sofa, his long legs stretched out across the coffee table. Reading the program guide, he gave her the choices for the next hour. One of the popular hospital shows was just starting, and Andy chose it.
The problems of a modern hospital were absorbing and entertaining until halfway through the show when a guest character came through the emergency door pregnant and in labor. Nick, who’d been relaxed and absorbed, shifted his position on the couch, and Andrea noted a frown on his brow.
Almost unconsciously she covered her stomach with her hands and turned back to the television. She watched the doctors reassure the woman and then confer in private about her chances of survival.
“This is crap,” Nick muttered. “How about a snack?”
“A snack?” she asked, distracted by the drama in front of her.
“Yeah. You don’t want to watch this stuff. It’s depressing.” He stood and took her hand to tug her to her feet.
“I want to see what happens,” she protested.
When she didn’t respond to his pull, he dropped her hand. “Fine. I’m going to the kitchen. Shall I bring you anything?”
“I’d like an apple and a glass of milk,” she said, turning her attention back to the TV.
He made a disgusted sound and left the room.
Following the plotline of the story, Andrea breathed a sigh of relief when the doctors were able to deliver a healthy baby with a promise of the mother’s recovery.
“Here. What happened?” Nick asked, returning from the kitchen.
She looked up in surprise to find Nick holding the apple and a glass of milk out to her. “She had her baby and everything’s fine. A little boy. See, there he is,” she said, pointing toward the television set.
Nick harumphed and sat back down on the sofa. “They shouldn’t use real babies. What’s wrong with those parents? Babies should be home, safe in their nurseries.”
“I think they have strict laws to protect the baby. And the money can provide for college later on.” She bit into her apple, enjoying the juicy crunch of it. “That’s not all bad. Besides, the show wouldn’t be as good if you didn’t get to see the pretty baby.”
“Babies are a lot of trouble.”
Andrea turned to look at him as he stared at the television, her heart aching. “I think a baby would be worth any trouble he caused.”
Somehow they’d never discussed babies before their marriage. She’d just assumed he’d want a family, as she did. When her parents died in a car accident, she’d become an orphan at an early age. She’d been in several foster homes until she got out of high school and was on her own.
With scholarships and some money from her parents’ life insurance, she’d made it through college, but she’d been lonely. In quiet moments, she’d dreamed of having her own family someday, someone to share the happiness and shoulder the pain together.
She kept her face glued to the television, not wanting to see any more rejection on his face.
Nick said nothing else and the program drew to a close. The news commentator asked them to remain tuned to that station for the latest update of the flood hitting the midwest and an up-to-the-minute weather report.
“Reporting the weather can’t be that difficult if the man can spell ‘rain,”’ Nick muttered.
“Maybe the forecast is going to change. If the rain stops, it shouldn’t take too long for things to get back to normal.”
“And what’s normal?” Nick growled. “You in Kansas City and me in Chicago?”
“We were talking about the weather, Nick.”
“I don’t want to talk about the weather. I want—”
“Shh! The news is starting. I want to hear it.” She swallowed a lump in her throat and tried to concentrate on the television, but in reality, she was listening for another protest from Nick. But he surprised her and said nothing.
“Good evening. Thank you for watching. The midwest, Missouri and Kansas in particular, are experiencing the worst flooding in its history. The Mississippi River is twelve feet above flood level and the Missouri, which feeds into the larger river, is several feet higher. For more details, let’s go to our reporter in St. Louis, Jason Freed. Jason…”
Watching the ravages of the flood was heartbreaking. But it brought home to Andrea just how grateful she should be to be safe, with no loved ones threatened. She might not like being trapped with Nick for a day or two, but at least she was safe in Hubbard, Missouri.
When the focus of attention was switched to the weatherman, both she and Nick leaned forward. Unfortunately, the man didn’t have good news. While there was a lull in the storm at the moment, radar showed more rain on the way, for at least the next five days.
“Five days?” Andrea gasped, forgetting for a moment that she should be grateful.
“At least,” Nick added with a frown. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I had a phone.”
A sudden idea struck her. “What about your cellular phone? I thought you carried it with you everywhere.” Her breathing quickened at the thought of their being rescued.
“I haven’t been back to Chicago since I left for Africa, Andy. When I heard about the floods, I came straight here from New York.”
“Oh.” No wonder he looked so tired. “Were you really kidnapped, or did you just get lost?”
He gave a smile that was more a bare movement of the lips than an attempt to indicate humor. “I was kidnapped.”
“Why?”
“An attempt to put pressure on the government. The group who kidnapped me wanted them to release some of their members who’d been imprisoned. They thought if they took an American businessman, the U.S.A. would force their government to act.”
“And did they?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I escaped and found some help to get me back to civilization.”
For the first time, she noticed the skin on his wrists. It appeared darker than the rest of his skin, as if it had recently been rubbed raw.
Reaching out, she ran a finger over one wrist until his hand grabbing hers awakened her to what she was doing. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t worry about it,” he ordered her tightly. “It’s over.”
She pulled her hand free