His Child Or Hers?. Dawn Stewardson

of course, she was light-years away from her childhood in Michigan. She was a doctor practicing in a foreign country where people, for the most part, spoke only Spanish.

      At first, that had caused her problems. But once her college Spanish had improved to reasonable fluency she’d been okay.

      Her heart beating quickly, she headed up the stairs and across the hallway to what was obviously the administration area.

      A young nun, wearing a long-sleeved brown dress that hung almost to her sturdy shoes, was working at the counter. She looked up as Natalie approached. “¿Puedo ayudarle?”

      “Hola. Me llamo doctora Natalie Lawson. Y tengo una cita con la madre superiora.”

      The young woman nodded, then turned and started in the direction of an office.

      Natalie nervously licked her lips. Yesterday, when she’d phoned, she’d spoken personally to the mother superior, Madre María-Teresa—who’d been thrilled at an opportunity to practice her English. And she’d assured her that all the paperwork would be ready when she arrived. So in no time at all, Benjamin would be in her arms.

      She waited, trying not to watch the clock on the wall ticking away the minutes, until an older nun finally walked out of the office and approached her, her gray habit swishing quietly with each step.

      “Doctora Lawson,” she said, smiling. “Much pleasure to meet you.”

      “And I’m very glad to meet you. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done.”

      Acknowledging the gratitude with a slight nod, the mother superior said, “One of the sisters bring Benjamin. You will sign the forms.”

      “Fine.” She followed along into the office, her legs feeling only a little rubbery, and wrote her name on each line indicated with an X.

      Just as she finished, there was a tap on the open door and another nun stepped into the office, a baby in her arms.

      “Here he is,” the mother superior murmured.

      At first, Natalie couldn’t move. She’d been waiting so long for this moment that it seemed like a dream.

      It wasn’t, though. Her son was mere feet from her. She took a deep breath, then pushed herself out of her chair, crossed the room and reached for him—her heart so full of love it was threatening to overwhelm her. But then…

      This baby wasn’t Benjamin.

      The realization struck with a cold, dark sense of certainty. Aside from anything else, her son had a birthmark on the left side of his neck. This child didn’t.

      Telling herself not to panic, that the sister had merely brought the wrong baby from his crib, she turned to Mother María-Teresa and said, “This isn’t my son.”

      The woman gave an understanding smile, rose from behind her desk and walked over to them.

      “It has been four months, Doctora Lawson. He has grown. But he is your son. For now, we have only one boy child this age in our care.”

      Only one? Only this one? But he wasn’t Benjamin! Tentacles of fear had wrapped themselves around her so tightly that she could scarcely breathe. If her baby wasn’t here, where was he?

      “And look,” the mother superior said, taking his tiny hand and fingering his identity bracelet.

      Natalie stared at the name on it and numbly read, “‘B. Garcia.”’

      “That is his name, sí? His father was Carlos Garcia? Archaeologist from Spain? That is in the file.”

      “Yes,” she whispered. “My husband was Carlos Garcia. But this is not our son.”

      CHAPTER ONE

      HANK KNEW THE ASSAILANT was making his way toward the bedroom, sneaking down the hall as silently as possible.

      Feigning sleep, he lay waiting. Coiled to move when the moment arrived. Listening to the whisper of fingers slowly turning the knob. A breathless sigh as the door opened across the carpet. Barely audible footsteps moving toward the bed.

      Four…three…two…Now! He thrust his arm from beneath the covers and wrapped it around his son.

      Robbie shrieked into his ear—one of the occupational hazards of fatherhood—then threw himself onto Hank’s chest in a fit of giggles.

      Hank caught him in a bear hug.

      “I almost got you!” he hollered, struggling to get free. “I almost did!”

      “Uh-huh. You had me right to the last second. Then my instincts warned me someone was there.”

      When Hank released his hold, Robbie scrambled around so he could sit straddling his father’s chest. “Mrs. Chevy said I should come wake you up.”

      “By launching a kamikaze attack? Is that how she told you to do it?”

      He nodded, looking so sincere that Hank would have believed him if he didn’t know Audrey Chevalier better.

      But he could practically hear her saying, in her most grandmotherly voice, “Now, wake your father very gently, darling. You know how he likes to be a little lazy on his days off.”

      And he did. Working ten days at a stretch sometimes felt as if he were working forever, but he really enjoyed having four days off between shifts. Especially when the weather cooperated, which it was doing at the moment.

      The next three days promised to be just as nice as yesterday—three more spring days that were going to be gorgeous, and that he intended to spend with his son.

      Except for this morning, he remembered. Audrey was taking Robbie shopping for clothes.

      It was a task she’d insisted on assuming more than a year ago, after Hank had arrived home with an expensive pair of jeans that Robbie put his knees through in a week, and four designer T-shirts that came out of their first wash too small for a teddy bear.

      Hank lifted his son onto the floor, then rolled out of bed, aware that if he believed in guardian angels he’d be convinced his had sent Audrey to him.

      She’d spent her entire life in New Jersey, most of it right in the town of Madison, and she hadn’t wanted to leave the area after her husband died.

      But she’d been both lonely and nervous on her own, so taking a job as a live-in housekeeper had been the perfect solution for her. And she’d been the perfect solution for a single father who worked irregular hours.

      If she ever decided to leave…The mere possibility made him shudder.

      “You’re cold, huh, Dad? You oughta get dressed.”

      “Right. So why don’t you go tell Mrs. Chevalier I’ll be there in five.”

      “’Kay.”

      Robbie took off running, standard three-year-old speed if he was a good example.

      As Hank watched him disappear, he tried to recall what life had been like without a child in the house.

      He smiled to himself, thinking that it had been a whole lot quieter. And he hadn’t had to worry about tripping over toys in the dark.

      But he’d never once regretted adopting Robbie. Not even during those first harrowing weeks after Jane had walked out on them. Because he’d been absolutely crazy about his son from the first moment he’d laid eyes on him.

      HANK’S IMMEDIATE IMPULSE was to ignore the doorbell.

      He had a section of the ceiling down in his basement office, and was wrestling with a wrench and a length of old galvanized pipe he wanted to replace before Audrey and Robbie arrived back from their shopping expedition.

      If he didn’t make his deadline, Robbie would be down here helping. And that always resulted in jobs taking ten times longer.