The Doctor's Second Chance

Whatever the reason for his absence, she could still check out possible women in the congregation who could help him with Abigail. As the organist played a prelude, Violet scoped out the room. There were definitely a few young mothers she could try to meet to feel them out, see if they might be available.

Five minutes into the service as the pastor was making announcements, the door behind Violet opened. Maybe it was Jake. Her neck muscles tensed.

She glanced back, and sure enough, Jake was headed down the center aisle wearing khaki pants and a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He carried Abigail’s car seat as if it didn’t weigh a pound.

Though his beard was neatly trimmed and his hair was freshly washed, the man looked tired. Harried. And he was obviously late.

Had he had trouble giving Abigail a bath? Had they not gotten any sleep last night? Could there be something wrong with Abigail that Violet had missed?

She snapped her attention back to the front of the church and crossed her arms, her teeth clamped tightly together. Jake was a grown man. She shouldn’t worry so much.

Jake slid in the other end of her row—her row, of all places. As he set the carrier on the seat beside him, she tried not to stare. Had he spotted her?

She needed to face the front and concentrate on worshipping.

Yet part of the way through the service, when they stood to sing a hymn, she found herself looking over to check on Abigail. Once she realized she couldn’t get a clear view of the baby, her gaze wandered upward.

Jake’s gaze locked with hers. He didn’t crack a smile or spare a wave. The man was used to being the boss at the work site, the one checking up on others. He apparently didn’t like thinking someone might be checking up on him.

Well, that was too bad. She wiggled her fingers at him in a friendly wave.

He inclined his head in acknowledgment and then turned back to his hymnbook, singing along until the song came to a close.

Always good at blocking out distractions, Violet sat and tuned in to the pastor’s sermon. When he began to preach about the prodigal son, she stilled.

Seriously?

Had God whispered in Pastor Greer’s ear that a wayward believer would show up in need of a good talking-to?

No one in the sanctuary could possibly know how convicted she felt, but Violet’s face burned in shame at how she’d tossed aside her faith for more than a decade. Ever since the day fourteen years ago when that little pregnancy test stick had turned positive, when her prayers for help had gone unanswered.

Though Violet wondered if maybe God had been the one to nudge her to come today, she still couldn’t bring herself to pray. God probably didn’t care to hear from her.

Abigail whimpered. A second whimper cranked up to a good cry, distracting Violet from the message. At the moment, she welcomed the distraction.

Jake looked a bit panicky, rifling through the diaper bag, then popping a pacifier in the baby’s mouth.

Apparently, she spit it out because the crying kicked up a notch.

Maybe Violet should scoot over to help.

Jake unhooked the car seat straps and lifted Abigail out, his movements rushed and awkward. Tough to be calm and collected when everyone around was beginning to stare. Even if they were smiling.

He bounced Abigail in his arms, but she wouldn’t be consoled.

Violet moved an inch and stopped. Would he think she was interfering?

People turned to look at Jake. He grabbed a bottle and impressed Violet with how quickly he popped it into Abigail’s mouth. But she refused it and continued to squall.

With stomach tensing, Violet leaned forward, ready to spring over beside Jake.

Grace Hunt rose from her seat. With her bobbed white hair, she walked up the aisle toward Jake. Smiling, she held out her arms to take the infant. He handed her over along with a pacifier.

As Grace walked away, bouncing Abigail, the crying stopped. Jake heaved a sigh and relaxed against the back of the pew.

Violet had missed her chance. Yet maybe this woman would be the perfect helper for Jake. After the service Violet would suggest Jake ask her for pointers, and maybe Grace could—

Violet’s phone vibrated in her pocket. A message from the hospital reporting a five-year-old patient in the ER with dehydration.

On autopilot, she grabbed her purse and slipped into the side aisle, heading toward the exit. Grace stood in the back swaying, holding the pacifier in Abigail’s mouth. She smiled and nodded at Violet as she passed. Violet returned the smile, yet couldn’t help checking out the baby.

Looking happy and healthy, Abigail sucked on the pacifier while she observed the kind woman holding her.

A wave of disappointment washed over Violet, quickly replaced by irritation. She should not be disappointed that Jake didn’t need her help. She should be pleased this woman had offered assistance. Hadn’t that been one of Violet’s goals for coming today?

Jake had a friend who could teach him to care for the baby. It was time for Violet to return to work mode, to make sure her interest in Jake and Abigail remained strictly professional.

Chapter Three (#ulink_2e9c2a07-e21f-52c0-a4ea-be51c73ce603)

“You sure are calling early,” Aunt Edith said on the other end of the phone line. “It’s barely 6:00 a.m.”

Jake stood in his kitchen bouncing Abigail in the crook of his arm. She’d been fussy since she woke at five o’clock.

All morning, he’d tried every trick he knew to soothe her, including walking around the yard before dawn and swinging on his childhood swing set while holding Abigail. She would settle for a few minutes but then start fretting again.

Unlike during her nighttime crying jags, at least she was finally taking her bottle this morning.

“What’s that noise?” Edith asked. “It sounds like a baby.”

“That’s because it is a baby.”

“Is there something you need to tell us?” she said with a laugh.

If only the whole thing were a joke and he could laugh along with her. “Actually, there is. Why don’t you put Uncle Paul on the other phone?”

Edith called for her husband to pick up the other extension, telling him Jake had something important to tell them.

“What is it, son?” Paul asked.

“Remy came by a couple of days ago.”

Edith gasped. “How is she?”

“She’s okay. Looks pretty good, actually. And she’s had a baby.”

Silence.

“Sorry,” Jake said. “Wish I could have prepared you better for that bombshell. But she showed up Friday evening, claiming she’s been clean for a year now but saying she’s not good mother material. She left the two-week-old baby with me and took off.”