did hard, physical work. “Thanks, Jack. Your bar was the only part of this experiment I enjoyed.” She stood and began fishing for her wallet in her purse. “What do I owe you?”
“On the house. The least I could do.”
“Come on, Jack—none of this was your doing.”
“Fine. I’ll send Hope a bill.”
At that moment Preacher came out of the kitchen with a covered dish wrapped in a towel. He handed it to Jack.
“Doc’s breakfast. I’ll walk out with you.”
“All right,” she said.
At her car, he said, “No kidding. I wish you’d think about it.”
“Sorry, Jack. This isn’t for me.”
“Well, damn. There’s a real dearth of beautiful young women around here. Have a safe drive.” He gave her elbow a little squeeze, balancing the covered dish in his other hand. And all she could think was, what a peach of a guy. Lots of sex appeal in his dark eyes, strong jaw, small cleft in his chin and the gracious, laid-back manner that suggested he didn’t know he was good-looking. Someone should snap him up before he figured it out. Probably someone had.
Mel watched him walk across the street to the doctor’s house, then got into her car. She made a wide U-turn on the deserted street and headed back the way she had come. As she drove by Doc’s house, she slowed. Jack was crouched on the porch, looking at something. The covered dish was still balanced on one hand and he lifted the other, signaling her to stop. As he looked toward her car, his expression was one of shock. Disbelief.
Mel stopped the car and got out. “You okay?” she asked.
He stood up. “No,” he said. “Can you come here a sec?”
She left the car running, the door open, and went up on the porch. It was a box, sitting there in front of the doctor’s door, and the look on Jack’s face remained stunned. She crouched down and looked within and there, swaddled and squirming around, was a baby. “Jesus,” she said.
“Nah,” Jack said. “I don’t think it’s Jesus.”
“This baby was not here when I passed his house earlier.”
Mel lifted the box and asked Jack to park and turn off her car. She rang the doctor’s bell and after a few tense moments, he opened it wearing a plaid flannel bathrobe, loosely tied over his big belly and barely covering a nightshirt, his skinny legs sticking out of the bottom.
“Ah, it’s you. Never know when to quit, do you? You bring my breakfast?”
“More than breakfast,” she said. “This was left on your doorstep. Have any idea who would do that?”
He pulled at the receiving blanket and revealed the baby. “It’s a newborn,” he said. “Probably only hours old. Bring it in. Ain’t yours, is it?”
“Come on,” she said in aggravation, as though the doctor hadn’t even noticed that she was not only too thin to have been pregnant, but also too lively to have just given birth. “Believe me, if it were mine, I wouldn’t have left it here.”
She walked past him into his house. She found herself not in a home, but a clinic—waiting room on her right, reception area complete with computer and filing cabinets behind a counter on her left. She went straight back on instinct and when she found an exam room, turned into it. Her only concern at the moment was making sure the infant wasn’t ill or in need of emergency medical assistance. She put the box on the exam table, shed her coat and washed her hands. There was a stethoscope on the counter, so she found cotton and rubbing alcohol. She cleaned the earpieces with the alcohol—her own stethoscope was packed in the car. She listened to the baby’s heart. Further inspection revealed it was a little girl, her umbilicus tied off with string. Gently, tenderly, she lifted the baby from the box and cooing, lay her on the baby scale.
By this time the doctor was in the room. “Six pounds, nine ounces,” she reported. “Full term. Heartbeat and respirations normal. Color is good.” The baby started to wail. “Strong lungs. Somebody threw away a perfectly good baby. You need to get Social Services right out here.”
Doc gave a short laugh just as Jack came up behind him, looking into the room. “Yup, I’m sure they’ll be right out.”
“Well, what are you going to do?” she asked.
“I guess I’m going to rustle up some formula,” he said. “Sounds hungry.” He turned around and left the exam room.
“For the love of God,” Mel said, rewrapping and jiggling the baby in her arms.
“Don’t be too hard on him,” Jack said. “This isn’t L.A. We don’t put in a call to Social Services and get an immediate house call. We’re kind of on our own out here.”
“What about the police?” she asked.
“There’s no local police. County sheriff’s department is pretty good,” he said. “Not exactly what you’re looking for, either, I bet.”
“Why is that?”
“If there’s not a serious crime, they would probably take their time,” he said. “They have an awful lot of ground to cover. The deputy might just come out and write a report and put their own call in to Social Services, which will get a response when they’re not overworked, underpaid, and can rustle up a social worker or foster family to take over this little…” He cleared his throat. “Problem.”
“God,” she said. “Don’t call her a problem,” she admonished. She started opening cupboard doors, unsatisfied. “Where’s the kitchen?” she asked him.
“That way,” he said, pointing left.
“Find me towels,” she instructed. “Preferably soft towels.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to wash her.” She left the exam room with the baby in her arms.
Mel found the kitchen, which was large and clean. If Jack was delivering the doctor’s meals, it probably wasn’t used that much. She tossed the dish rack onto the floor in the corner and gently laid the baby on the drain board. Under the sink she found cleanser and gave the sink a quick scrub and rinse. Then she tested the temperature and filled the sink with water while the baby, most annoyed at the moment, filled the kitchen with the noise of her unhappiness. Fortuitously, there was a bar of Ivory soap on the sink, which Mel rinsed off as thoroughly as possible.
Rolling up her sleeves, she lifted the naked little creature into her arms and lowered her into the warm water. The cries stopped. “Aw,” she said. “You like the bath? Does it feel like home?”
Doc Mullins came into the kitchen, dressed now, with a canister of powdered formula. Behind him trailed Jack, bearing the towels he was asked to fetch.
Mel gently rubbed the soap over the baby, rinsing off the muck of birth, the warmth of the water hopefully bringing the baby’s temperature up. “This umbilicus is going to need some attention,” she said. “Any idea who gave birth?”
“None
