“Fathers are important.” Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE EPILOGUE Copyright
“Fathers are important.”
Matt spoke simply. “And I think my baby deserves a good one.”
Olivia’s smile softened. “I agree, Mr. Creed. But I’m afraid that with my daughter, there is little either of us can do to change her mind.”
Matt leaned forward on the couch. “Oh, there’s plenty I can do,” he said. “I can take her to court and sue for joint custody”
Olivia answered quickly. “Nasty legal proceedings will solve nothing. Besides, you have no claim to the baby. Danni would have to name you as the father for you to have any legal standing.”
There was silence for a few seconds, then Matt spoke. “Your daughter didn’t tell you?”
Olivia looked confused.
“Mrs. Goodlove, your daughter and I are married.”
“THE PULL OF THE MOON is a tender, memorable story of a remarkable man and a dedicated woman, who, through loving each other, heal the wounds upon their souls. It is a page-turning, feel-good book from beginning to end.”
—Sharon Sala, award-winning author of Reunion
Dear Reader,
I worked as a labor and delivery nurse for many years and allays wanted to write a story about a dedicated, funny, sawy, but lonely obstetrician who yearns for a love of her own. Dr. Danni Goodlove began forming in my mind all those years ago.
But it wasn’t until I met the firefighters/rescuers after the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah building in Oklahoma City (I was privileged to work as a volunteer at the site during the rescue effort) that I found the hero who would be Danni’s match.
I hope my portrayal of Matthew Creed does justice to the tireless and truly heroic men and women who gave their all during that terrible time. To my own son Damon, a television reporter who was one of the first to arrive at the scene, and to everyone who suffered in the wake of that heinous crime, I hope that the references in this book provide only consolation and validation.
Though deeply emotional issues are woven into this story, it is a joyous account Because it shows one woman’s journey as she chooses change and growth, finds true love and receives the family of her dreams.
I enjoy hearing from my readers. You can write to me at
P.O. Box 720224, Norman, Oklahoma 73070.
Darlene Graham
The Pull of the Moon
Darlene Graham
To Ray and Tonie Lueb.
Thank you for answering God’s call to become loving parents.
CHAPTER ONE
THE FULL MOON WAS THE trouble, and everybody knew it.
As Dr. Danielle Goodlove shoved her long, thick hair under a disposable cap and began the routine surgical scrub, she thought how ironic it was that all the simpering romantics out there in TV- and movie-land considered the moon a symbol of romance.
Romance. Ha!
In obstetrics everybody knew that all hell broke loose when Old Man Moon turned his fat face on the unsuspecting earth. Why did stuff like this—an emergency C-section with a life in the balance—always seem to happen when the moon was full?
Correction: two lives.
She nudged the knee handle to cut the water off, raised her dripping hands, and headed toward delivery room one.
A woman’s scream from within caused Danni to break into a trot. She knocked the heavy door open with her bottom and yelled: “Fetal heart rate?”
A nurse turned up the volume on a state-of-theart monitor and called back, “Sixties!” as the ominously slow beeps filled the otherwise-silent room.
Another nurse rushed forward to dry Danni’s hands with a sterile towel while a third nurse came at her with a surgical gown mittened over fists. The circulating nurse filled Danni in on the case, her words fast and low. “It’s a bad deal. The whole family was in the fire. Couple of toddlers. Mom’s water ruptured at the scene—”
“When?” Danni interrupted.
The nurse glanced at the large clock on the tiled wall.
“Just before midnight—about thirty minutes ago. We’ve got a prolapsed cord and fetal distress.”
“I hear it,” Danni said. The beeps got slower.
The nurse with the towel finished the drying and dodged aside so the other could thrust the gown onto Danni’s outstretched arms. The circulator continued to talk rapidly as she reached up and pushed Danni’s glasses firmly onto the bridge of her nose.
“Mom