The Doctor's Second Chance. Missy Tippens

the weight on a graph. “Two weeks old. She’s at the fiftieth percentile. Weight, length and head circumference look good. And I also need her last name.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, frustration seemed to spark at his inability to focus and communicate basic facts.

      The baby looked groggy, her belly full, content. His earlier panic inched down a notch. “Abigail West.” He glanced again at the form, his chest tightening. Remy had given the girl his dad’s middle name—which was also Jake’s middle name. “Abigail Lee, L-e-e, West.”

      “Thank you,” the pediatrician mumbled, her tone adding an unspoken finally as she filled in the blanks on some sort of form.

      She probably questioned his mental faculties. He was beginning to wonder himself. “Here’s that medical release form from her mother. Do you have some kind of booklet on basic infant care? I wasn’t sure about whether to boil the water or use milk for the formula. Or how to sterilize the bottles—or if I even need to. That kind of thing.”

      “Don’t give her cow’s milk yet. Here.” She wrapped the baby up like a burrito and leaned close to set her in his arms. As she did, the doc’s short, flippy black hair caught on his beard and tickled his chin.

      “I’ll go make Abigail’s file,” she said. “You should probably change her diaper so she’ll take a nice long nap for you.”

      Diapers. There would be lots of messy diapers in his near future. The thought nearly made him wretch.

      “You have changed her diaper, haven’t you?”

      “No.”

      “Ever changed any diaper?”

      “No.” His incompetence had been revealed. Could she report someone for being an inept babysitter?

      She simply sighed. “Sounds like you need a crash course.”

      “I do. Would you be willing to come home with me to help get Abigail settled? I’ll pay you whatever you’d bill for, what? Four appointments in an hour? Six?”

      “Do you have a friend you could ask?” Her hazel eyes were serious, concerned, as if she feared he didn’t have any friends. Which only showed she must think the worst of him. Still, for some reason, he found the concern endearing.

      Caution, Jake. No matter how cute she looks with her feathery hair and big serious eyes, this conniving woman took advantage of Aunt Edith and Uncle Paul. “No, I don’t have anyone else to ask. The older ladies in my church may not know the current child-rearing recommendations. I don’t know the young moms well enough to ask a favor. And the women I’ve dated...well, none of them would be good with kids.”

      She gave a derisive snort. “Not dating the maternal type, huh?”

      No, his dates were more into skydiving or mountain climbing than children. But he wasn’t going to stoop to answer her snooty question. She could think badly of him all she wanted. He didn’t value her opinion unless it had to do with Abigail. “I’ll pay you. Just name your price.”

      “My price? Quit bad-mouthing me to people in town.”

      Stunned by her bluntness, he huffed. “I’ve only spoken the truth.”

      “There’s no way you know every detail of the contract negotiations. Get the facts straight before you start smearing someone’s reputation.”

      Oh, he knew all about the contract negotiations between her and Paul and Edith—and how she’d found fault with the way the business had been run, had brought in her expensive Atlanta lawyer to do her bidding. Jake even knew the final sale price—which he thought entirely too low for something his aunt and uncle had built for decades, since before Jake’s parents died.

      Looking around the room at the same child-friendly posters and colorful furniture his aunt and uncle had lovingly put in place made him sad. Jake wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t let the doctor from the huge city clinic come in acting as if his family were bumpkins, and taking advantage of them, without repercussions.

      Despite his opinion of her, though, he needed her help. For the baby’s sake. “Will you please help me with Abigail?” The words grated in his throat, nearly choking him.

      She stared into his eyes until the moment became uncomfortable. Briefly, he thought he saw pain, but then the pediatrician snatched a diaper out of the bag. “Helping you set up for a baby is not something I can bill as a medical service.”

      “I’ll pay you directly, like a babysitting subcontractor.”

      “I’ll give you an hour.”

      The tension in his shoulders relaxed as he laid Abigail on the exam table. “Thank you.”

      Violet made quick work of the diaper, so smoothly the little gal barely stirred from her sleep. “I’ll teach you to do this on her next diaper change.”

      Once she was done, she handed the baby back to him. He gently buckled her into her car seat, even managing not to wake her. Maybe he’d get the hang of this temporary fatherhood job after all.

      As he lifted the carrier, Abigail suddenly cried out as if in some sort of pain.

      “Did your cousin happen to mention the baby being colicky?” the doc asked over the screeching cries.

      He swung the car seat back and forth, trying to soothe her. “No.”

      “This might be a long few nights for you, Jake.”

      Few nights? If only...

      “That diaper bag is all I have,” he said. “I guess I need to stop and buy some supplies on the way home.”

      “I don’t mind picking up the basics for you before I come over.”

      “But—”

      “You can pay me back later.”

      Before he could refuse, she said, “I heard you moved into your aunt and uncle’s house. I’ll be there shortly.” She was no-nonsense, used to being obeyed. She breezed out of the room, presumably to show him out.

      When they reached the front door, she unlocked it and held it open.

      “I appreciate it.” With a nod, he headed out, his tiny second cousin or cousin-once-removed or whatever she was to him blasting his ears.

      “Come on now, Abigail,” he cooed in his best soothing voice, a tone he didn’t even know he could make.

      He lifted her carrier to the truck’s backseat. Once again, he struggled to buckle the car seat in place.

      “How about I show you how to do that?” Violet said from behind him.

      When he agreed, she made her way between him and the truck, spun the car seat around backward and scooted it to the middle seat belt. “Infants this age must be rear-facing. And there’s supposed to be a base that stays in your vehicle that the seat latches into. Until you buy a new one, which I recommend, the strap goes through here.” She pointed to a slot on the back. With the seat facing the correct direction, the seat belt easily slipped through and locked Abigail in place.

      “Now that makes perfect sense,” he said with a laugh. “Should have thought of it myself.”

      Violet turned and faced him, looking satisfied. She was so close the evening sun reflected off flecks of gold in her eyes.

      He stepped back, allowing her to slip past him. She did so quickly and darted toward the office building, as if anxious to get away.

      He felt almost guilty for the things he’d thought and said about her. Almost. “Thank you, Dr. Crenshaw. I know you didn’t have to do all this, to go the extra mile.”

      She stiffened as if surprised and glanced at him over her shoulder. “My purpose in life is to help children, Mr. West.”

      Of course she wasn’t acting out of kindness toward