Maybe My Baby

Through it all Emmy was struck by the friendliness of the whole town, though, and by the time they left the place—after coffee evolved into a dinner of hamburgers and fries and Mickey had been passed around like a football—Emmy was actually beginning to appreciate the warmth of Boonesbury.

Mickey was sound asleep when they got him home, and Emmy offered to get him ready for bed while Aiden set up the travel crib.

The baby slept through the change and went right on sleeping as Aiden set him in the crib that he’d put alongside his own bed—the bed that Emmy had to work very hard not to picture Aiden in when she brought Mickey into the bedroom.

And then Mickey was down for the night and Aiden was ushering her out of the room, and she knew she should say good-night and go up to her own room.

She just didn’t know what she was going to do up there since it was only nine o’clock and there wasn’t a television or a radio and she didn’t feel like reading the book she’d brought along for the trip.

Aiden solved the problem by reminding her that the space heater needed to be turned on to warm the attic room in advance, leaving her to wait downstairs while he did it.

“How about a little brandy to chase away the chill?” he suggested when he returned.

Neither of them had had anything stronger to drink than coffee and water at the inn, so a small drink now didn’t seem so out of the question. Even if she was there on business, Emmy reasoned, there had to come a time when she was off the clock.

“Sounds good,” she said.

“Sit down and I’ll get it.”

He’d motioned to the sofa and that was where Emmy sat, hugging one end with her hip.

When Aiden joined her with the brandy he sat on the chair where he was closer to her than he would have been at the other end of the couch.

He’d been clean shaven when Emmy had come downstairs that morning, but his beard was beginning to shadow his jaw now. It added to his rugged masculinity and made him resemble a burly lumberjack all the more. A very attractive burly lumberjack.

“We didn’t learn much about Mickey or the woman you think might be his mother,” Emmy said to get her mind off just how good he looked.

“No, we didn’t. I thought if it was Nora who left him, someone might have seen her at least pass through town.”

“So maybe Mickey isn’t hers.” Or yours either, was the unspoken finish to that.

“Maybe. But I can’t rule it out all the same. She could have come here and left again without ever going near Boonesbury.”

“What’s your next plan of action? Or is it just to see if the radio announcements tomorrow bring any information?”

“The radio announcements only start tomorrow, they’ll go on until I stop them. But, no, I can’t just leave it at that. I thought we’d spend tomorrow at the office. Monday is always a full day, and it’ll give you a chance to see what goes on. Then, when I get a minute to spare, I’ll take some of Mickey’s blood to type it, see how it compares to mine. And to Nora’s, if I have that in her file.”

Obviously, he hadn’t ruled himself out as Mickey’s father.

Thinking along that line, Emmy said, “I suppose it is hard to understand why anyone would leave him with you if you’re not his father.”

But her assumption that Aiden was leaning more in that direction was wrong.

“Actually, it isn’t all that far-fetched. As the only doctor for miles, and one of the few people educated beyond high school, I hold a pretty unique position. Even folks who shy away from civilization or value their independence and self-reliance above all else, still come to me with their problems—medical and sometimes otherwise. Basically, they trust me around here.”

“In other words, if someone was going to leave their baby on another person’s doorstep, you’d be the likeliest choice?”

“As a matter of fact.”

“That’s an even heavier responsibility than most doctors have.”

“Maybe. But I like it that way. As I said, I’m not thrilled with having a baby left with me without any explanation—and in the middle of this grant stuff, to boot. But I like having a closer relationship with my patients. Knowing them by name. Knowing what’s going on in their lives. Having them place that much confidence in me—”

“Having them leave you their babies…”

“I’d rather have that than have a cold, impersonal practice in a big city. If doing what I need to do with Mickey now and having to wonder if he’s mine in the process are the trade-off for that, I’m okay with it.”

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