Bachelor Doc, Unexpected Dad. Dianne Drake

through his mind. If ever there’d been a time when he’d come close to taking on an obligation other than his career...

      “Look, Sarah, give me a couple weeks to figure it out. Can you do that much?”

      Sarah shook her head. “Sorry.”

      Well, she wasn’t giving him many options. For a career military surgeon, always going in one direction or another, moving from place to place and in his case combat zone to combat zone, there was no room to care for a child. In fact, he didn’t even have a place to call home, and kids needed a home, and stability. They needed someone there all the time to raise them. They needed what he and Janice had never had.

      “All I can say, Matt, is I know you’ve been doing good for yourself, despite the way your daddy treated you. I’m glad for you. But I can’t take Lucas. So, like I said, I’ve already contacted child services, they know the situation, and the paperwork’s started. So he’ll go to a group home until they can find a family who’ll take him in, unless you do. As for adoption...” She shrugged. “Can’t say what’ll happen there. He’s a cute kid. Doesn’t talk, though. Not a word.” She leaned in and whispered, “Don’t think he’s very smart.”

      “Probably because he’s traumatized from everything that’s been happening to him,” Matt snapped. Then he looked down at Lucas, who was sucking his thumb. He had a ratty old blanket tucked under his arm, and he wore a pair of sneakers that were clearly several sizes too large. All Matt could think was he was so vulnerable. And scared. Matt knew what it was like to be vulnerable and scared. Knew exactly what the kid was feeling...like his whole world had just collapsed. Matt couldn’t blame Lucas for not wanting to talk. There had been many times in his own young life when he hadn’t wanted to talk either.

      “Hope it doesn’t mess up your life too much, Matt,” Sarah said, then turned and walked away, leaving Matt standing alone in the cemetery, holding on to Lucas with one hand and a bag of clothes with the other. And with no idea what to do next.

      “Do you eat hamburgers?” he asked Lucas, who looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes. The kid needed more than a hamburger. Matt knew that. He needed words of reassurance. The promise of a home. A hug. Right now, though, he was equipped to buy him a hamburger. That’s all.

      Did kids his age eat hamburgers? Matt’s medical training told him yes. But his parenting training—well, there was none of that to draw on. No kids in his life, no kids in his future. No home. No wife. He thought back to that morning when he’d left Ellie sleeping and walked away. Too bad he couldn’t go back and stay there. It had been nice. No worries. No past. No future. Just that moment in time. Unlike this moment in time, when his only goal was a hamburger, or anything else a two-year-old would eat.

      * * *

      “I need to do what?” Ellie Landers looked at the ultrasound, and didn’t see anything particularly distressing. She knew how to interpret what she was seeing. Her brief time in nursing had taught her that much. And what she saw right now looked perfectly normal.

      “Rest more. Eat better. Reduce stress. Cut back on work. You know, the simple things.”

      She did know, but she wasn’t sure why all this applied to her. Dr. Shaffer had just told her the baby was healthy. She was healthy, too. So why the precautions? “But there’s nothing wrong with me. You said so just a few minutes ago.” Now she was worried.

      “Your blood pressure is on the high end of normal. You’re at risk for gestational diabetes partly because of your age and partly because your mother has diabetes. And you’re chronically tired.”

      “Because I work eighteen hours a day.” Ellie liked Doc Shaffer. He’d been her mother’s obstetrician, now he was hers. Medically, he had a great reputation. Personally, he was just plain kind. He’d never asked her to explain the pregnancy. Not that there was much to explain about a two-night fling at a medical conference. All that, plus he had a great heart for his patients and treated them with respect and dignity no matter what the situation. As someone in the medical field, Ellie appreciated that. As a patient, she was glad to have it.

      “Cut it back,” he said, leaning forward across his desk, looking over at her across the top of his glasses. “You’re thirty-four, Ellie. You live a busy life and drive yourself harder than anybody I’ve ever seen, except your mom. And I don’t want you having complications with this pregnancy.”

      Thirty-four and owner of one of the fastest-growing medical illustration companies in the world. Something she’d built from the ground up. “But you think I could be at risk?”

      “You could be, if you don’t slow down—which puts your baby at risk.”

      Her baby. It was strange hearing that, because Ellie had never really thought of this life she was carrying as her baby. It was a baby, possibly someone else’s baby, depending on whether or not her fling wanted to be a daddy. But her baby? Hearing that gave her a maternal jolt she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t enough to make her change her mind to become a single mom, but it did make Ellie more aware of the baby she was carrying.

      “Look, I’ll cut back on the hours. Eat better. But I’m not going to go home, kick my feet up and watch old movies for the next almost five months. I have to work. My company needs me, and I need it.”

      “You’re just like your mother. Do you know that?” Doc Shaffer leaned back in his chair, typed something into his computer, then shook his head. “She was as driven as you are. And as stubborn.”

      Ellie Landers wanted to smile at the comparison, but she couldn’t as she didn’t want to be like her mother and didn’t want to be compared to her either. “And look how successful she’s been. She owns one of the largest technology companies in Nevada.” And she’d raised a child as a single mom. Well, mostly in absentia. But she did get the credit for hiring the right people to take care of her. All this was something Ellie wasn’t prepared to do.

      Children needed a real family, a parent or parents who didn’t hire someone to take their child to the playground, who didn’t pay for the most qualified caregivers but, instead, took responsibility for that care themselves. Family dinners, stories at bedtime. That’s what children needed—what Ellie had never had, and what she wasn’t able to give. Not with her job or her chosen lifestyle. That’s what Ellie had learned from her own upbringing and what she carried with her every day of her life. That kind of life wasn’t meant to be her kind of life.

      Still, the dream of it—home, family. Husband. It was nice. But so ethereal it made Ellie sad. So that’s where she stopped because the rest of the dream was so vague. But the husband was not. Since Reno, she’d had a vision of him. Even more now that she was carrying his baby.

      “Whatever the case, stop at Reception on your way out and schedule your next appointment. I’d like to see you back in six weeks as a precautionary measure. Also, I’ve written you a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and the name of a good physical therapist should your back spasms continue.”

      “I don’t need a therapist for backache and I already take vitamins. I started the day I found out I was pregnant.”

      “Which is good. But the ones I’m prescribing have more iron—you’re a little anemic, and they also have much more folic acid than anything you can get OTC, because you need folic acid. It’s for the healthy development of the brain, eyes, cells and nervous system.”

      “I know,” Ellie said. “Remember, I worked in obstetrics?” She’d been a good nurse, but nursing hadn’t suited her the way she’d hoped it would. Maybe because it required nurturing in abundance, and she didn’t have a speck of it in her. She had been good at the procedural aspects, but had lacked the genuine human touch that was also needed. Ellie could see her shortcoming, and she’d honestly worked to correct it because she loved medicine, but there had always been something missing. She couldn’t define it, couldn’t describe it to her supervisor when she’d resigned from her job.

      And now, ten years later, she still couldn’t define what that lack was other