Patchwork Family. Judy Christenberry
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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, the local diner, she’d overheard a conversation not intended for her ears. Quinn had been explaining to his companions how he felt about children.
“Children only complicate your life and take up time. I’m always on the go. I’ll leave raising the little rug rats to other people,” he’d said with a laugh.
Which made his assistance today impressive.
“I appreciate your help. High fever always frightens me.” He must think her a real fraidy cat. After all, yesterday she’d been just as frantic. “You must think I’m always— I mean, yesterday—”
He took her arm and drew her over to a row of chairs. “Special circumstances, Molly. Don’t worry about it.”
She sat down because she didn’t know what else to do. She’d wanted to follow the doctor into the examining room, but that hadn’t appeared to be an option, which worried her even more. A nurse had hovered at the doctor’s side, ready to assist him, and Sara hadn’t put up any resistance. Now, Molly clutched her hands tightly together, tensely waiting for the doctor’s —and Sara’s—reappearance.
A large hand reached out and covered her two. Its warmth helped ward off the chill that was racing through her. “It’ll be all right,” Quinn whispered.