Alias Mommy. Linda O. Johnston

newspapers beside her. How ridiculous she was being! He was the doctor who had saved Laurel and her. He probably saved a life every morning before breakfast, two more on Sundays. If he looked or sounded familiar, it didn’t mean anything. She was nothing special to him.

      When she dared to glance up again, he had turned to say something to the person behind him. Her heart skipped a beat. What if whomever he brought was…

      Silly. She was way off in the wilds of Colorado, for heaven’s sake. And Reeve’s presence would be a buffer, no matter who he was talking to.

      Keeping her voice low so as not to wake the baby, Polly tried to put her nervousness aside. “Sorry things are such a mess, but I’ve just been reading.” She pushed aside some newspapers and smoothed the sheet over her awkwardly short hospital gown, wishing she had a long robe on instead.

      Not that it mattered, of course. Nothing had passed between them before. Yet, for that one moment, his gaze had seemed to wrap around and hug her.

      How absurd she was being!

      “Glad you’re feeling up to a little reading.” Reeve finally strode into the room, an appealing sureness to his walk.

      The man accompanying him was much shorter than him, and his T-shirt and tight, stained blue jeans revealed a wiry build. “This is Ernie Pride,” Reeve said. “He’s the one who saw you go off the road and called me.”

      Polly offered her hand to Ernie, ignoring the soreness the motion caused. His grip was strong, and she thought she smelled a whiff of paint. “Thanks,” she said sincerely. “From both of us.” She gestured toward the bassinet where Laurel slept.

      “You’re welcome.” Ernie bent to look at the baby. “She’s a little beauty, isn’t she?”

      Polly beamed.

      “Bet her daddy’s going to be right proud of her,” Ernie continued.

      Polly felt her smile freeze, and she darted a glance at Reeve. His expression remained blank, but she could sense disapproval radiating from him like heat from a sun-baked sidewalk. Why should that bother her so much? She didn’t care what he thought.

      She forced herself to shrug. “Oh, her daddy divorced me when I became pregnant. She’s just my baby.” And that would be the way it would stay, Reeve Snyder and his unexplained displeasure with her notwithstanding.

      No matter how badly—and incongruously—that displeasure hurt her.

      “I’d be surprised at any father who wouldn’t want to know about the birth of his child,” Reeve said. His tone was mild, but his eyes had narrowed, and a shadow again darkened them. “Don’t you think someone ought to inform him?”

      Like you? Polly thought, beginning to panic. This angry, curious man might be trying to find the baby’s father—and in the process he could learn something about her. And that could only end in disaster.

      She made herself shrug again, praying she looked nonchalant. “Well, Dr. Snyder,” she improvised, “not that it’s any of your business, but just guess why a man would dump his wife because she’s pregnant.” He looked suddenly discomfited, and she pressed her advantage without waiting for him to reply. “Because there’s some doubt whether this baby was his.” Polly smiled snidely, though she was cringing inside. As though she, of all people, could have been unfaithful—even after all her husband had put her through.

      And the thought of Reeve thinking she could do such a thing sent a stab of misery shooting through her.

      But her comments had had the effect she’d desired—sort of. Something inside twisted and began to shrivel as Reeve looked at her with distaste. “You were right in the first place, Ms. Black,” he said. “It was none of my business.”

      Ernie shifted his weight from one leg to the other, inserting a thumb into the waistband of his jeans and hiking them up. “Glad I could be of help,” he said. “But I’d best be leaving. Ms. Black, you be careful driving when they let you out of here. City council may not be letting out next time.”

      “I’ll be careful,” Polly said fervently, wondering what he meant by “city council.” But he had already turned away.

      So had Reeve. The sight of him leaving made her want to cry again. She watched the stiffness in his broad shoulders beneath his white doctor’s coat as he followed Ernie toward the door.

      Polly closed her eyes, wishing she could call him back, could tell the truth—or enough of it so he wouldn’t despise her.

      But this was better. He would keep his distance. Just because he’d been her hero didn’t mean she could make him her friend.

      And certainly didn’t mean she could harbor thoughts of something even closer between them. It was too soon after Carl’s death to think of any man that way. And the way Carl had been…Polly doubted she would ever dare trust a man again.

      She let herself collapse back onto the raised bed, but before Reeve left, another man shouldered by him into the room. “Ms. Black?” he asked. His small glasses had the thick black frames that Polly believed had been popular in the 1960s. The man looked as though he might have been a throwback to the era of hippies. Although his hair was thin and wispy, it nearly reached to his shoulders, and he wore a suit that appeared to be polyester.

      “Yes, I’m Polly Black,” she replied warily. She needed a nap, and she had an idea this visit would not be as pleasant as the one from Ernie.

      Reeve followed the man back into the room. Polly felt her pulse quicken in pleasure.

      Cut it out, she told herself. Whatever his reason for returning, it wasn’t because he was glad to be with her.

      Again, Reeve made the introductions. “Ms. Black, this is Clifford, from the medical center’s administration department.” She wasn’t sure whether Clifford was his first or last name.

      “Exactly.” Clifford’s voice was high and nasal, and he sniffled as he talked. “We need some information. I’ve forms for you to fill out, and we need to talk about your insurance.”

      Polly drew in her breath. She had been too relieved that she and Laurel were all right to consider the practicalities, but of course their hospital stay would be expensive. She had even had surgery; she was sure cesarean sections were not cheap.

      She had money—some. But her flight had been spontaneous, and she hadn’t had time to grab much cash. She’d already charged gas on her credit card. She doubted the card’s limit was high, and eventually someone would realize it was a fake.

      And if she used it again here, someone might be able to track her down.

      What could she do? She had no one to ask for a loan. Not even Lorelei; a struggling actress in Hollywood would not be able to scrounge up the money this hospital stay was likely to require. Even if Polly dared to call her. She’d planned to get there first, then figure out some way to meet up with her friend short of telephoning her.

      She wouldn’t be surprised if Lorelei had already been contacted. Her phone might even be tapped.

      But Polly had no place else to go. And now she didn’t know if she had a drivable car. She hadn’t enough money for another clunker.

      “Ms. Black?” Clifford’s nasal voice cut into her thoughts.

      “Sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid a hospital visit wasn’t in my plans. I was going to a friend’s, and I was planning to have natural birth with a midwife. I…I have no money or insurance.”

      “I see.” Clifford’s pale eyes squinted behind his glasses, and he did not look at all happy.

      He glanced at Reeve, who stood impassively near the doorway, watching the scene. Polly cringed inside. Now, on top of everything else, he would think of her as a deadbeat.

      “It’s not that we’re not compassionate here at Selborn Community Medical Center,” said Clifford. “But these things must