Patchwork Family. Judy Christenberry
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place was a fashionably dressed young woman with pale blond hair feathering around her face, setting it off like a prized picture in a frame. She was dressed in trim wool pants and a blue sweater that enhanced her eyes.
He assumed the worried look on her face was the result of concern about her future. Hurriedly beginning his explanation, he was shocked again when she scarcely acknowledged his words. When she even began closing the door on him, he put out a hand to stop her.
“Wait. Do you understand, Mrs. Blake?”
“Yes, I—” She broke off as a wail floated down the stairs. She gasped and abandoned the door. “I’m coming, sweetie,” she called as she raced up the stairs.
Quinn frowned as he found himself standing alone in the entryway. He could leave. But then, if he did, he wouldn’t know what was wrong. Not his business, he argued with himself, but he didn’t leave.
Instead, he closed the door and stepped toward the stairs. Before he could ascend, Molly came back into sight at the top of the stairs, carrying a bundle in her arms.
“Is everything all right?”
She appeared surprised to find him still there. “No, my daughter is ill. I appreciate what you’ve done. I’ll—I’ll call later to discuss it. But she needs me right now.”
Quinn had kept his distance from children. And mothers. Too often, he’d seen a woman’s selfish disregard for her child’s needs. He knew how important the bed-and-breakfast was to Molly.
But not more important than her child.
A moan drifted up from the bundle in Molly’s arms. He hadn’t realized she was holding her child. She tightened her arms and murmured soothing words.
“She must be tiny,” he said with a frown, somehow drawn to the invisible child. “Have you taken her to the pediatrician?”
“I called. He can’t see her until late this afternoon.”
Quinn could tell she was trying to remain calm, but he heard the panic in her voice. “Is she running a fever?”
“Yes. It’s very high.”
He stepped even closer and pulled back the blanket, revealing a small face, quite similar to her mother’s, with the same pale hair and big blue eyes. “Hello there,” he whispered.
The little girl tightened her hold on her mother.
Okay, so he’d never been good with children. Never wanted to be good with children. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to walk away from this duo.
“Want me to call my brother?”
Molly blinked those big blue eyes of hers several times before she asked, “Why?”
“Sorry, I forgot you wouldn’t know. My brother Brady is a doctor at Tyler General. He might be able to see her now.”
He’d offered women gifts before, even occasional favors, but he’d never seen such intense gratitude in response. She even reached out to grasp his lapel.
“Oh, yes, please. With her fever so high, I’m—I’m worried.”
He patted her hand and asked for the phone. She led him to the small desk beside the staircase, standing beside him as he called, cuddling her daughter.
“Dr. Spencer, please. It’s his brother, Quinn.”
He covered the receiver and said, “They have to go get him.”
She nodded, hope in her gaze.
“Brady? It’s Quinn. I need a favor. A—a friend has a little girl running a high fever. The doctor can’t see her for seven or eight hours. Could you take a look at her?”
His brother’s hurried agreement had him hanging up the phone at once. “We need to get her there in fifteen minutes. Do you have a car? I walked.”
“Yes! Thank you! Thank you so much. My keys are in the kitchen. I’ll just—”
“Give your little girl to me,” he ordered, reaching out his arms.
She hesitated, as if not sure she should entrust her precious bundle to him, but then she handed over the child.
Quinn felt the heat rising in waves from the child and understood Molly’s fears. The child was very hot. He smiled down at the miserable face. “We’re going to take you to the doctor, and he’ll make you feel better.”
She whimpered and ducked her head against him. He cuddled her closer, surprised at the protective feelings that filled him.
Molly returned, shrugging into her coat. She scooped the little girl out of his arms and handed him the keys, all at the same time. “You drive, please.”
His eyebrows rose. “You want me to drive your car?” he asked, not sure he’d understood.
She nodded as she turned to lead him through the kitchen to the garage. “Yes, please. I have to hold Sara.”
Such motherly devotion filled Quinn with stark terror.
Chapter Three
All Molly could think about was Sara. She murmured soothing words to her daughter as Quinn Spencer drove them to the hospital. Sara had never been sick, other than occasional sniffles, in her four years of life. It unnerved Molly to see her baby in such straits.
“She’s so hot,” she muttered, scarcely aware she had spoken out loud.
“I’m sure Brady will be able to help her,” Quinn assured her. He pulled into the emergency parking area and came to a stop.
Molly was out of the vehicle, Sara still clutched to her chest, before he could come around and assist her. “Will your brother meet us here, in the emergency room?”
“Yes. He should be waiting.”
Molly scanned the medical personnel as they entered the hospital. It didn’t take her long to identify Brady Spencer. His hair might be darker than his brother’s, but they had the same eyes. Besides, he was hurrying toward them.
“Is this my patient?” he asked, voice filled with gentle reassurance. “What’s her name?”
“Sara,” Molly told him, but she was reluctant to release her child, even to the doctor.
“Hello, Sara,” Dr. Spencer said, pulling back the cover to see her daughter’s face. “How about we see if we can make you well again? Want to come with me? I may even have a lollipop for you.”
Sara nodded. The doctor scooped her from Molly’s arms. Molly reached out as he moved away, afraid to lose sight of her daughter.
Strong arms came around her. “She’ll be all right, Molly,” Quinn whispered in her ear. “You can trust Brady.”
With a strangled sob, she instinctively turned into those strong arms and buried her face in his chest. All she could think about was her precious child.
It had been so long since she’d had anyone to lean on, to share her burdens. The comfort the attorney offered was too tempting. She remained there, absorbing his strength, until other feelings invaded her concern.
She jerked herself from his embrace, embarrassed. How could she think about a man, any man, when Sara was ill? She certainly wasn’t a lonely widow looking for some man to rescue her. No! She and Sara were a team. They didn’t need anyone.
But, for a minute, she admitted, having someone to lean on had felt good.
“I’m sorry. I don’t usually fall apart, but Sara’s never been really sick and—and—”
“It’s all right. I guess I’d feel the same way if my child—” He broke off and looked away from her.
She already knew he had no children and never intended to be a father. One night at Marge’s,