The Nine-Month Bride. Judy ChristenberryЧитать онлайн книгу.
what?” the doctor asked in return, his eyebrows rising.
“Why would this man want to—to be a donor?”
“I can’t discuss why. That would be breaching a patient’s confidentiality. All I can do is tell you to discuss your, ahem, needs with Lucas. What can it hurt? And it could save you a lot of money. Plus time.”
“Time? I have two weeks’ vacation coming. I thought that would be—”
“Lord have mercy. These things don’t always take right away. You’re not going to the supermarket doing your weekly shopping, my dear. Sometimes it takes months.”
“Yes, but—”
“Go see Lucas. I’ll tell him you’re coming. Can you go right now?”
“Yes, but—no, I—well, all right, I suppose I could but—surely it would be better if I waited until you talked to him, gave him some time to think about what—” Susannah had never felt more flustered in her life.
“Naw. Right now. I’ll call and tell him you’re on your way.” He waited, watching her until she finally nodded.
“If Lucas won’t solve your problem, then I’ll draw up a list of the finest doctors in Denver. There are only a couple I’d trust with such a delicate matter, you know.” He stood and came around the desk to pat her shoulder as she rose. “I’m glad you came to me with your problem, Miss Langston. One way or another, we’ll take care of it.”
Suddenly she found herself on the other side of the door with it closed firmly behind her. She stared at the piece of paper. What had come over her? To agree to discuss such a personal thing with a stranger? To ask this—this stranger to be the father of her child?
The trembling that seized her almost took her legs from under her. She reached out for the wall.
“Are you all right, Miss Langston?” the rosy cheeked nurse who’d worked for Dr. Grable for thirty years asked. She was a frequent visitor to the library.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Susannah hurriedly said. “Miss Cone, do you know—know Lucas Boyd?”
“Well, a’course I do. He’s lived here all his life. He’s a good man.”
Without meeting her gaze, Susannah smiled, hoping her lips didn’t wobble on the ends as much as her knees were doing. “I—thanks. I’ll see you later—at the library, I mean.”
“Sure. I’ll be in Saturday, as usual. Those last books you recommended were wonderful.” With a big smile and a wave, she headed down the hall to another patient’s room.
Susannah drew a deep breath and hurried from the office before someone else noticed her shakiness. She certainly didn’t want to find herself back in the doctor’s office.
Once she was behind the wheel of her car, she looked at the piece of paper the doctor had given her. It was damp and wrinkled, but she could still read the directions.
Directions to certain embarrassment.
She squared her shoulders. You promised yourself you’d go through with your plan, no matter how embarrassing it might be. And it would be embarrassing. But no more so than being the oldest living virgin in the entire state.
With a sigh, she started the car. Yes, she’d promised herself. She refused to continue to limit her life to rows and rows of books. Beloved books, but still only books.
She wanted more out of life. She wanted a child to nourish, to shower with love. With whom she could be a family. Even if it meant embarrassment.
Lucas Boyd’s housekeeper, Frankie, a cowboy injured by a bull a few years earlier who found riding more painful than sweeping floors, chased him down in one of the big barns beyond the house.
“Luke? You in here?”
“Yeah, Frankie. What’s up?”
“The doc wants you to call him. Now. He said it’s important.”
Lucas patted the mare as he moved around her, his heart suddenly racing. “Did he say why?”
“Nope.”
“Thanks, I’ll be right there.”
He stood still until he heard the slam of the door, signifying Frankie’s return to the house. Drawing a deep breath to calm the excitement and fear that rushed through his veins, he began a slow, steady walk to the house.
Nothing to get excited about. Probably had nothing to do with the request he’d made when he visited Doc last week. Doc couldn’t have found someone so fast, could he?
Hell, he’d been so unenthusiastic, Luke had figured he wouldn’t hear from Doc at all. But Lucas had come to his decision logically. Three years was long enough to mourn his late wife, his beautiful Beth, and the tiny baby boy delivered stillborn.
Lucas knew he couldn’t risk his heart again. That was too painful. But he needed a son to carry on the tradition of the family ranch. And to make the future worthwhile.
Doc Grable didn’t agree with his decision to find a surrogate mother. The old geezer thought he had a right to interfere in Lucas’s plans because he’d delivered him into this world. But it looked as though he’d changed his mind. Maybe Lucas owed him an apology.
Instead of using the phone in the kitchen, where Frankie could always be found, Lucas passed through to his office.
“Doc? It’s Lucas Boyd. You wanted me to call?”
“Yep. I’ve sent one out to you. It’s up to you, now. I still think it’s a fool idea, but I’ve done what I can for you.”
He wasn’t going to have that argument again. “Thanks, Doc. When?”
“She should be on her way now, if she doesn’t get cold feet. Name’s Langston.”
Before Lucas could ask for any more information, Doc’s gravelly voice said, “Gotta go. Patients.” Then the dial tone rang in Lucas’s ears.
His hand was shaking when he hung up the phone. There was no going back now. He stood, then realized he wasn’t prepared for a social visit. He smelled of the barn.
“Frankie!” he shouted as he rushed toward the stairs. “I’m hitting the shower. If—if I have a visitor, ask them to wait.”
Because his future was right around the corner. And he didn’t want to miss it.
“Luke, there’s a lady to see you,” Frankie shouted up the stairs.
A lady.
Lucas took one last look in the mirror, feeling foolish. He seldom studied himself, but it was important that he make a good impression on the lady downstairs.
After all, she was going to be the mother of his son.
Drawing a deep breath, he smoothed back his hair and then hustled down the stairs before nerves could get the best of him. Knowing Frankie would’ve put the visitor in the seldom-used living room, he paused on its threshold to take his first view of her.
She looked up as he appeared, then stood. Not a beauty, like his Beth. Her features were bland, and she was tall, lanky, almost. Somehow, those differences made what he was about to do easier. That, and the fact that he’d never seen her before.
“Mr. Boyd?”
“Yes, ma’am. Are you Mrs. Langston?”
“Miss Langston,” she said, correcting him.
He frowned. In his mind, he’d assumed whoever agreed to his terms would be married, a mother already. From what he’d read, that was the typical profile. “You’re not married?”
“No.”
She added nothing to her blunt reply, but her gaze continued to meet his. He liked that. His son