And Father Makes Three

Chapter Two

“Let’s go.” Blake motioned to his partner, Corey Abrahamson, the following morning. He wheeled the stretcher toward the emergency room doors that led outside to the waiting ambulance. The accident had been a fender bender, yet they’d brought the elderly man to the hospital to be checked over as a precaution.

Now that the call was over, Blake had nothing but time on his hands and a daughter on his mind. He helped Corey lift the stretcher into the back of the ambulance, figuring that Elizabeth Randall was off today because he hadn’t seen her in the E.R. Maybe she was with a patient.

Suddenly he realized that outside Kingfisher, he had no way of contacting her. After closing and securing the doors, he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and quickly scribbled a note.

“Hang on. I forgot something.” He strode back through the doors and left the note with the nurse behind the desk. Elizabeth wouldn’t get his phone number until Monday, but there was nothing he could do about that. Sweet-talking the young intern had only resulted in finding out the doctor’s next shift.

A doctor. Now that he’d met the woman and reality was setting in, dread pounded in his heart. Tessa had given their daughter up for adoption to a doctor.

Not that his late ex-wife would have known about his aversion to doctors, because they’d met in med school when Blake was still trying to gain his father’s approval. In their whirlwind courtship and brief marriage, Dr. William Crawford—the cutting-edge heart surgeon—had never been mentioned. It didn’t take long for Blake to realize he didn’t want to be a doctor, and he quit. After Tessa left him, he enlisted in the army instead of returning home to face his father’s wrath. And right about that time, he started living for the moment and seeking out every thrill he could find. While others went out and saved the world, he spent his money and time trying to save himself from the demons of his youth. With a daughter now, he had to start thinking of someone else. It rocked him to the core.

“All set now?” Corey leaned against the side of the ambulance.

“Yes.” Blake strode to the driver’s side of the cab. Once inside, he snapped his seat belt into place and flipped the switch to let dispatch know they were available for another call. Blake pulled air into his lungs, yet suffocation still threatened to pull him under. “What’s it like being a dad?”

His question startled the other man. No surprise there—sports and food usually dominated their conversations.

Corey gave him a dubious look.

“Did Karen put you up to this?”

“No.”

Blake started the engine, put the ambulance in drive and pulled out into the parking lot. Once the numbness had worn off, the anticipation he’d felt earlier when he’d read the letter from Tessa returned. Another generation of Crawfords existed. Responsibility weighed on his shoulders, but he knew the right thing to do. He would meet Jordan and be a part of her life, despite the adoption. Dr. Randall couldn’t keep him from her forever.

But what would happen then? Apprehension gripped his heart.

Would Jordan reject him like everyone else in his life?

“I just found out last week I’m a father.”

“How’d you find out?” His partner whistled as Blake stopped the ambulance at a red light. As he tapped the steering wheel impatiently, waiting for the signal to change, both Tessa’s and Elizabeth’s faces rose in his mind’s eye. How different they were, yet his late ex-wife had changed his life in one way, and the doctor would as well when she allowed him to see Jordan. “I received a letter from my ex-wife’s attorney last week.”

“I never knew you were married.”

“Not many people do. It’s not one of the highlights of my life.” Blake sighed.

“What happened?”

“We were too young. I didn’t understand what it took to be a good husband. Tessa probably didn’t have any confidence in me as a father either, because after she split she never told me she was pregnant.” Blake hit the gas and stared out the window as streets and houses replaced strip malls. Tension tightened his neck muscles and bracketed his mouth. “I want to meet her, but I’m scared I’ll blow it. I don’t know how to do it. What’s it like?”

Corey didn’t answer until they’d stopped at another light. “I think you’d make a good father. You’re there for people when they need it and that’s what matters. This’ll sound cliché, but being a parent is one of the most rewarding and frustrating jobs there is. There’s no instruction manual, you just kind of wing it.”

That was the problem. He’d had no relationship with his father and had no idea how to start. His daughter was almost ten years old—the past had already been repeated.

A strange emotion pulled at his heart when he thought about the daughter he had yet to meet. An unbreakable bond had been set in place the moment he’d received the letter. In an instant, clarity whacked him and he gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline.

Blowing it with Jordan was only the beginning of his worries.

* * *

“Have a second?” Blake knocked on the partially open door to Dr. Eric Stevens’s office inside Kingfisher Memorial Hospital late Tuesday afternoon. He thought Elizabeth would have contacted him by now, but apparently not. He glanced at his cell phone again to see if he’d missed a call. Nothing.

The woman couldn’t avoid him forever. As Jordan’s biological father, he should have some rights, even if someone else had adopted his daughter.

Surprise shone in his paintball buddy’s eyes. “Sure. Come in. Ready to talk about your defeat?”

“I’ll challenge you to a rematch anytime you’re ready.” Striding into the room, Blake suffered déjà vu. His late father’s office had been laid out the same way, even though it was farther down the hall. All the hours he’d spent inside this building after middle school crowded his brain, and anxiety twisted his stomach. Blake had spent most of his time reading his father’s books and trailing after medical staff to learn the ropes.

Other twelve-year-olds were playing basketball, while he was watching open-heart surgery.

Blake sank down in a chair before his knees gave out. He’d fainted during that procedure, a fact his father never let him forget. Beads of sweat formed on his upper lip and forehead.

Outside of the E.R., Blake hadn’t stepped foot in the deep interior of Kingfisher again until today.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods, then?” Eric pulled his glasses from his face and set them down on the file he’d been reading, tipping back in his chair. Piles of research files and books leaned dangerously to one side and three half-empty foam cups lined the edge, ready to topple into the overflowing garbage can.

Having grown up blocks from each other, his best friend knew more about Blake than anyone. Even Tessa, which was probably another problem in their marriage. Instead of talking, Blake kept things bottled up. The less people knew, the less chance of his getting hurt.

“Dr. Randall. You know her?”

Eric eyed him warily. “Sure. But she hardly interacts with anyone outside the E.R. Why?”

Sweat rolled down Blake’s forehead. “Her daughter is mine.”

“What?” The front legs of Eric’s battered chair thudded against the carpeted floor. “Jordan is yours? How did that happen? I didn’t know you knew Elizabeth all those years ago.” His eyes widened as he stared at Blake from the other side of his small, cramped desk.

“I didn’t know her. She adopted Jordan from my ex-wife.”

“Wow.” Eric fingered a vintage World War I model airplane on the only part of his desk that wasn’t buried under mounds of stuff. Deftly, he avoided Blake’s gaze.

“Wait a minute. If she doesn’t interact with anyone here, how do you know about Jordan?” Blake wanted to grab the sleek yellow bi-winged plane from his friend’s hands and force him to concentrate on the conversation. Things hadn’t changed much since high school, and Eric was still the master of dodging uncomfortable situations. He spun the propeller around with his pointer finger and stared at it intently.

“Despite Dr. Randall’s attempts to keep it private, nothing goes unnoticed by the staff. Especially because Jordan is being treated here.”

“What do you mean she’s being treated here?” The blood drained from Blake’s face. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Dr. Randall didn’t tell you?”

“No. What’s wrong with my daughter? Tell me.” Blake curled his fingers around the arms of his chair to keep from jumping up.

Eric dusted the empty spot on the desk with his palm before he put the plane back. Then he leaned back, the front legs of his chair off the floor again. “We watch each other’s backs here at Kingfisher. I can’t. I’ve said too much as it is. Dr. Randall will have to tell you herself.” Compassion filled Eric’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Blake, in more ways than one. Life stinks sometimes.”

“Tell me about it.” Tension bit into Blake’s shoulder muscles, still a tad sore from their recent paintball excursion. “Dr. Randall has a lot of explaining to do, if I can get a few minutes of her time.”

Eric steepled his fingers together underneath his chin. “Because we have a history of running wild together and my dad bailed you out of a few scrapes, there are a few other things you need to know about Dr. Randall.”

“Like what?” Having grown up with a doctor, Blake didn’t think anything could surprise him.

“She’s a genius who intimidates everyone on staff. Me included. My dad’s the only one who isn’t intimidated by her, but then again he’s been here forever. He’s retiring—they’re throwing a party for him Saturday night. You should stop by. He’d like to see you again.”

“Dr. Randall sounds like my father,” Blake said, ignoring his friend’s attempt to change the subject.

“Dr. Randall did a fast track. She graduated from Harvard at twenty-two and finished her residency before most students get through med school. Most people her age are just getting their feet wet in a hospital setting, not passing their five-year anniversary mark.”

“I can handle that.” Blake stood. “She’s working today, isn’t she?”

Eric made a quick call. “If you wander down to the E.R., you’ll run in to her, but her shift’s almost over. I’m not done yet.” He paused and eyed Blake warily. “She’s also the widow of the late renowned heart surgeon Thomas Randall.”

Thomas Randall. The Thomas Randall? The name conjured up a big, black hole in Blake’s heart. His father had mentored Thomas Randall, but he’d died young, much to his father’s grief. In Dr. Crawford’s eyes, Tommy had been the son Blake would never be. And now that his father was gone, Blake would never have the chance to prove otherwise.

He squeezed the bridge of his nose. How could Tessa give away his child to Thomas Randall? All work and no play left no time for any family time. No matter how many times Blake had begged his father to play ball with him or come to one of his games, his dad was too busy helping others.

Resentment, anger and disappointment fought for dominance. Blake didn’t know what type of mother Elizabeth was, but his daughter would not suffer the same lonely existence he had. With Thomas Randall dead, Jordan needed a father.

And not just any man that Elizabeth might be involved with. Jordan needed her real father. Now.

“Are you okay?” Eric’s question brought him back to the present.

“Thanks for the info, I’ll see you around.” He strode to the door and shot his friend a quick smile as he marched into the hallway, determined to find Elizabeth Randall.

* * *

Her shift over, Elizabeth wanted to grab a quick bite before she went upstairs to visit Jordan. As she headed out the E.R. doors, her head down, she crashed into someone.

“Oh, excuse me,” said a warm, masculine voice.

“No, excuse me. My fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She looked up and found herself face-to-face with Blake Crawford. He was better looking than she’d remembered. His short, cropped brown hair accented the smooth planes of his cheeks and his strong jawline covered with a hint of a five o’clock shadow. Dimples creased his cheeks and laugh lines crowded the corners of his eyes despite the fact that he wore a frown.

“Blake?” Jordan’s father was on the receiving end of her inability to stay focused on her surroundings. Not good. As a doctor, she needed to be aware of what went on around her. What if she screwed up in triage? What if she made a life-threatening mistake?

Jordan’s health had started to affect her ability to remain calm and composed. Wouldn’t the head nurse love to see unflappable Dr. Randall right now? Her skin prickled. The anxiety she felt when she first held the tiny infant in her arms almost ten years ago resurfaced. At that time, though, she’d had Tom to help her. Was it possible that Blake Crawford could fill in and take over the role of father like Jordan wanted?

There could only be one reason why Blake had come today: to confront her. He must have found out the truth about her part in the adoption, and he’d come to try to take Jordan away. She’d fight him every step of the way.

“I’m thirsty. Care to join me?” Not giving her a choice, Blake took her arm and led her into the cafeteria.

Five minutes later, after grabbing their food, Blake spoke her name as if testing it out. “Elizabeth Randall. Sorry to hear about your husband.”

“You knew Tom?”

“Only by reputation.” His words had an edge to them.

“Thank you.” Elizabeth wished she was privy to whatever thoughts or ideas whirled around inside his brain. Everyone liked Tom. To her knowledge, her husband had never caused that type of reaction before.

“So what kind of doctor are you?”

His question surprised her. “A pediatric emergency room doctor.”

After sending up a quick, silent prayer of thanks for her meal, she bit into her sandwich, not surprised it had no taste. None of the cafeteria food really did.

“So you only help kids.”

“Yes, unless I happen to be the only doctor available.” Pain radiated from Elizabeth’s core. While she helped others, Jordan’s cure remained out of her reach, and it killed her to watch the leukemia gain an upper hand. She had to have faith that God knew what He was doing. Maybe bringing Jordan’s father into her life could tip the scales in the right direction. She noticed Blake eyeing her, as if sensing her inner turmoil.

“That must be a tough gig.”

“It has its moments, but it’s also very rewarding at the end of the day.” Dragging in a ragged breath, she prayed for strength to get through the rest of the night. Jordan’s fever had broken late this afternoon, but she wasn’t out of danger.

A family of four helped themselves to food from the vending machine stationed near the rear of the cafeteria. The girl, dressed in basketball attire, looked to be a few years older than Jordan. Would her daughter ever be healthy enough to play sports or visit with her friends? Yes. Elizabeth would make certain that happened. The leukemia would go into remission again, and Jordan would grow up and become the veterinarian she wanted to be.

“So can you help Jordan?” Questions filled his blue eyes and held her in her seat.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” Elizabeth fought to breathe. What did Blake know about Jordan?

“Really? You have nothing at all to tell me about my daughter? Like that she’s sick?”

Elizabeth felt the blood leave her cheeks. Lightheaded, she reached out for the table, but her hand connected with the Blake’s. “Who told you?”

Blake ignored her question, taking her hand. “What’s wrong with her?”

She tried to extricate herself from his grasp. He only tightened his grip.

“Jordan has leukemia. It’s come out of remission.”

“Leukemia?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth’s voice trembled, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken. She closed her eyes to avoid the pain written in his.

“Since Tessa was a part of Jordan’s life, she knew about it, didn’t she?”

Elizabeth nodded, remembering how despite her own pain, Tessa was there right after they learned of Jordan’s relapse. Her friend had been there for her until the end.

“So that’s why she said my daughter needed me.” Silence filled the space between them.

Grief, anger and regret sucker punched Blake in the gut. Rubbing his eyes, he leaned back in his chair to distance himself. His daughter was dying. He had yet to meet her and he could lose her, too. A renewed sense of urgency took hold. “When do I get to meet Jordan?”

Elizabeth toyed with the straw in her coffee, avoiding his gaze.

“Elizabeth? She’s the last of my family. I have every right to meet her. It’s what Tessa wanted. It’s what I want.” Blake squeezed her hands. When she gazed up at him, her light blue eyes shone with fear. In a heartbeat, Blake understood.

She was afraid of losing Jordan. Not only to the leukemia ravaging her body, but to him.

A commotion caught Elizabeth’s attention and she stopped one of the E.R. staff as they strode by. “What’s going on?”

“Accident. Five on their way in. Three kids.”

“I’ll be right there.” Half-finished cups of coffee and sandwiches were the story of her life, only this time she was glad to leave it behind. Elizabeth’s heart raced. She wasn’t on duty, but she knew her services would probably be needed for a few hours. She’d make sure to see Jordan before her bedtime.

She rose hastily, scraping the chair on the tile. The lights seemed to grow brighter, magnifying the man next to her. She couldn’t avoid Blake’s request for long. What if Marcella was right? What if the adoption wasn’t legal? What if Blake met his daughter and wanted custody?

“Sorry to cut this short but I’m needed in the E.R. Thanks for dinner.”

“This conversation isn’t over yet.”

Elizabeth held her ground. “It is for now. Please excuse me.”

Blake wasn’t ready to let the doctor out of his sight. “I’ll come with you.”

As he escorted her down the hall, he could tell that his words had fallen on deaf ears. Elizabeth had already shut him out, just like his dad used to do. She was his father all over again.

His long strides ate up the tile flooring as he kept pace with the woman. Her face expressionless, he knew she was already in the E.R., mentally going over how to treat her future patients. Neither he nor the janitor polishing the floor existed.

Invisible. Again. Was she this way with their daughter? Suddenly Blake was ten-years-old and waiting for his father to help him build his derby car for the Cub Scout Pack race. A race he never participated in because his block of wood never made it out of the box. His mother had always helped him before, but she’d died ten months earlier from breast cancer. After that, he’d quit scouting like he’d quit almost everything else he’d started in his life.

He wasn’t going to quit this time. He wanted to meet his daughter. She was the only thing that tied him to Tessa. “I will meet Jordan, Elizabeth. You can count on that.”

“Only on my terms.” Her lips drew a straight line. In the distance, he heard the adrenaline-pumping screech of the sirens as the first ambulance pulled in.

He mentally shook himself. Lives stood on the line here. There was no telling how extensive the injuries were. And in her defense, she had been giving him her full attention until the call came in. A piece of understanding wormed its way past the painful memories of his father.

Once inside the E.R., she discarded her purse underneath the desk, then pulled on her lab coat and kept moving.

“Dr. Randall?” A harried nurse stopped short of running into her. She clutched her clipboard to her chest, a look of relief on her face.

“I was in the cafeteria. What are we looking at?”

“An SUV ran a red light and T-boned a car.”

Blake felt useless and in the way. He only did fieldwork—basic life support—this wasn’t his territory. This was Elizabeth’s domain. Why had he insisted on coming?

After marching to the sink, Elizabeth turned on the tap and scrubbed her hands. The sliding doors to their right swooshed open and a paramedic and EMT wheeled in the first patient. After throwing her paper towel away, he watched Elizabeth clasp her hands and bow her head.

“What are you doing?” he asked as another ambulance arrived.

“Praying.”

“Praying?” She didn’t strike him as the religious type. He wondered if he should tell her prayer didn’t really work—if it did, his mother would still be alive.

“Yes. Praying. I don’t do my work alone.” She strode away from him and never looked back.

Chapter Three

“You should really wait for Dr. Randall before you do this.” Eric stopped beside Blake outside room 403. “All it takes is one look and bam, she’ll nail you to the wall. I’ve seen her reduce interns to tears.”