She had made an offer she could afford, and it had been accepted. According to her lawyer, she’d paid a fair price. She clung to the belief her good reputation would overcome the talk.
Word-of-mouth recommendations would take time, though. She hoped she could make it that long financially because she loved taking care of children and building relationships in a solo practice. Loved the small-town feel of Appleton, Georgia.
She shut down her computer. Time to head home. Maybe she’d make some pasta for dinner. She could watch a movie or—
What was that pounding sound?
Stepping into the hallway of the old house-turned-office, she listened. Someone was banging on the front door. She hurried to unlock and open it.
A burly man in dirty work clothes stood with his fist poised to knock again. “Oh, good, you’re still here,” he said.
Recognition dawned. “You!” She scrunched her nose at Jake West, the man who’d single-handedly tried to make her arrival in Appleton a living nightmare. “What do you want?”
His scruffy, bearded jaw twitched as if he was clenching his teeth. Bright blue eyes narrowed.
Well, good. She hoped her attitude aggravated him. He deserved it for all the aggravation he’d caused her.
He inclined his head toward his truck. “I need your help. A baby.”
At the word baby, personal feelings fled, and she focused on the task at hand. Zipping over to the vehicle, she opened the door. “What’s wrong?”
“I have no clue.”
“Is she injured or sick?”
“I don’t think so. She’s crying a lot.”
“I need more than that to go on.” Incredulous, Violet jerked her gaze away from his wild-eyed baby blues. She unbuckled the seat belt from its unorthodox position and tried to untangle the car seat. “What on earth?”
“Let me get it,” he sniped.
“Fine. Come inside.” She marched ahead of him and waited, holding the door open.
He strode through the entryway, brushing against her, once again setting off her irritation.
“I’d heard you’re single,” she said. “When did you have a baby?”
He raised a brow. “I haven’t birthed a baby lately. She belongs to my cousin. I’m...uh...babysitting.”
Likely story, buddy. Probably some fling had landed him with this new responsibility. It would fit this rabble-rouser she’d had the displeasure of meeting.
“So why did you bring her to be seen?”
“I, uh...” He cleared his throat. “My cousin had to leave rather suddenly. I’d like to have the baby checked over to make sure she’s okay. To get some instructions on caring for her.”
Squinting, Violet gave him the once-over. “How do I know you didn’t take this baby?”
Anger flashed in his eyes, eyes that had just turned ice-cold. “You know my family. We don’t steal children.”
Fine. Of course they didn’t. But he was acting strangely. “Do you suspect the baby has been harmed or neglected?”
His steely gaze held hers, almost as if testing to see if she was trustworthy. “No. But since I don’t have experience with kids, I’d feel better if you’d check her. I have signed medical consent.”
Violet suspected there was a good bit more to this story of suddenly babysitting an infant who couldn’t be more than a week or two old. “Of course. Bring her back to an exam room.”
She turned on lights as she went. “Next time, please make an appointment.”
“Will do, if I have more than five minutes’ notice.”
As soon as Jake set the carrier on the examination table, the baby started to fuss.
Violet lifted her out of the seat, and the little one began to root against her chest. “Hungry, are we? Well, I’m sure your cousin Jake will get you a bottle ready while I weigh you.”
Jake froze, eyes wide, as if she’d blinded him with her otoscope.
“You do have a bottle for her, don’t you?”
He reached inside the diaper bag and pulled out a can. “There’s this powdery formula. And bottles.”
He sounded clueless. How would this child survive? How had his cousin dared leave the baby with him?
Violet huffed. “Go down the hall. There are samples of that exact brand in the storage closet on the right.”
“Yeah. I know where the sample closet is.”
Of course he did. He’d probably spent time in his aunt and uncle’s office.
While he was gone, she weighed and measured the baby girl, jotting the figures on the paper covering the exam table. “I’ll need to make her a file,” she called. “And I need that medical consent form. Do you happen to have any of her records with you?”
He lumbered into the room holding up a disposable, formula-filled bottle, smiling as if he’d discovered precious gold. “Yes, in her bag. I’ll find them.”
“What’s her name?”
With his back to her, he ignored the question and seemed to frantically search, tossing out diapers and wipes, empty bottles and clothes. At the bottom of the bag, he found a folder. “Here it is.”
She broke the seal off the bottle, popped the top and began to feed the hungry baby, who slurped down the food. As Jake flipped through the records, Violet headed to grab another bottle to send home with him.
Sweet blue eyes stared up at her before finally turning sleepy. Violet’s chest tightened.
Holding and feeding a precious baby never failed to open up old wounds, renewing the pain of having her own baby taken from her and put up for adoption by her parents.
Yet the opportunity reminded her that there were many children around town who needed a caring touch. Needed someone to look out for them.
“She’s falling asleep.” Violet put the baby to her shoulder and patted her back. “Be sure you always burp her like this after you feed her.”
Once the baby belched, she returned her to the exam table. “I’ll do a quick check and then she can have a nap in her car seat.”
Violet glanced at Jake. He was watching every move she made, his eyes taking it all in like a first-time parent overwhelmed by a new life depending on him, afraid he’d do something wrong. She couldn’t help but smile as she examined the baby’s ears. “You never told me her name.”
* * *
Jake’s brain nearly buzzed. How could he tell this doctor that he had no idea what the child’s name was? A child in his care.
He and Dr. Crenshaw were already adversarial. And now he was going to have to admit he had no contact information for the mother. No baby name. No father’s name. No mother’s address. Nothing but a copy of hospital records from Atlanta labeled Baby Girl West. He assumed Remy had filled out a birth certificate application, so surely the girl had a legal name.
What about those papers she mentioned?
One last, frantic flip through the documents in the bag revealed a folded copy of the birth certificate paperwork crammed between two folders