Which was exactly what the woman intending to take away his niece had told him. Adam resented the fact that she knew more about the baby than he did.
“It’s very scary the first time you see such a small baby suffer like this, but she’s getting better.” She removed her hand from his arm, the touch was clearly intended to calm and reassure him, but it had the opposite effect.
He was tense, his senses on high alert, somehow he was allowing her to get under his skin—something he never did. Having total control of one’s emotions was a lesson that had been drilled into him by his parents since he was a young child, it was a state of mind that served him well as a doctor. Of course, as a man it left him somewhat cold and aloof but that hardly mattered in this situation. Despite his undeniable attraction to her, after today he would have no reason to ever meet this woman again.
Jan Thomas cleared her throat and Adam dragged his gaze over to the other woman. “Doctor Reynolds, I’m so sorry. I should’ve introduced you both sooner but I was busy with another patient. This is Penny Miller, a local authority foster carer. Penny, this is our consultant paediatrician and Baby’s uncle, Adam Reynolds.”
Penny looked at him with a faintly accusing glare, a light blush stained her cheeks a pretty pink. “You’re a doctor?”
He could understand her surprise. His clothing hardly screamed professional medic and the long journey no doubt made him look as though he’d been sleeping on a park bench.
“Yes, I work here in the hospital but not usually in this department. It’s nice to meet you properly.” He put out a hand in belated greeting. “But as I’m here and ready to take over, there’s no need for you to stay.”
Her hand was small in his much larger one, her frame petite and distractingly feminine. Although, as he was quickly learning, what she lacked in height she certainly made up for in opinions and determination.
“That’s very kind of you,” she said, her tone letting him know she thought the total opposite. “But I’ll wait and see what Baby’s social worker says.”
“I’m confident she’ll be happy for me to take Baby home, after all, I am a trained professional.” Adam looked back at Jan, who was taking in their exchange with a light of interest in her eyes. “Nurse Thomas, could I possibly have a stethoscope? I’d like to examine Baby myself.”
Penny smiled, though there was a distinct lack of warmth in the gesture. “I know what would be a good idea. If you’re so keen to take over, why don’t you think of a name for her so we can all stop calling her ‘Baby’.”
That was a good idea. Adam tried to think of an appropriate name as he looked down at the sleeping baby—three weeks premature and born to a mother addicted to methadone. What was a perfect name for a tiny baby born too early craving a drug her little body was too small to cope with?
“I...I need some time to think,” he stumbled, immediately angry with himself. What was it about Penny that made his usual ability to make decisions evaporate into a jumbled mess?
“What would your sister have liked?”
He didn’t know. And that was the problem. There was a time he and Kate were inseparable, bonded by their parents’ indifference. Back then he would’ve known in a heartbeat what she was thinking and what she wanted. But that was before heroin had taken over and become her best friend.
They had never regained the same relationship. Adam no longer trusted her and Kate resented the fact he always checked before accepting her words as the truth.
Somehow she had convinced him she’d kicked her habit before he’d left on his aid mission otherwise he would never have gone—he would certainly never have stayed away so long if he’d known she was pregnant.
Guilt ate away at his stomach like an insidious acid and his breath caught in his throat. His eyes burned and Adam blinked furiously to clear them. Finally, he shrugged and found his voice, “I don’t know.”
His parents had been emotionally absent his whole life and were now also physically absent since they’d begun their retirement holiday of a lifetime. Adam realised he would have to put together the sporadic postcards they sent with their itinerary and work out where in the world they were so he could tell them about Kate’s death.
Only a desperate need to do the right thing by Kate’s child kept his feet still when every instinct he had screamed at him to go hide somewhere until his heart healed.