Healing Dr. Fortune (12 page)

But he wasn't too caught up to realize that there might be legal ramifications for what Kirsten planned to do. And he couldn't let her make a mistake like that.

So after calling the clinic and letting them know he would be coming in late, he drove to San Antonio, where Rafe Mendoza had opened his new law office.

Rafe wasn't just a friend. He was also family, related to Jeremy by marriage—his half-sister, Isabella, had married Jeremy's brother J.R. And if there was anyone Jeremy could trust to provide sound legal counsel, it was the attorney in San Antonio's newest law firm.

Hopefully, Rafe wouldn't be too busy to see him.

After leaving his car in the underground parking structure, Jeremy took the elevator to the lobby, where he talked to the security personnel, identified himself, then waited for permission to proceed to the elevator.

Rafe's office was located on the fifth floor and overlooked the River Walk. In fact, it wasn't too far from the hotel in which Jeremy and Kirsten had spent the night.

Just being in the area was a nice reminder of what they'd shared together, of what the future might hold if things worked out. And that was why it was important
for him to make sure that Kirsten didn't get into any trouble.

When Jeremy finally entered the reception area of Rafe's office, he strode to the legal assistant's desk. “Hello, Vonda. Is Rafe available?”

“I believe so. Let me tell him you're here.”

While she paged her boss, Jeremy shoved his hands in his pockets and scanned the spacious office, noting the expensive dark wood and the leather furnishings, as well as an expanse of windows that provided a nice view of the river.

At only twenty-nine years of age, Rafe was doing pretty well for himself these days. He already had a successful law practice in Ann Arbor. And he'd just recently returned to Texas to open a second office.

One of the many things Jeremy appreciated about Rafe was his air of confidence, which made him a good attorney.

Moments later, the handsome, dark-haired man entered the waiting area and reached out his hand to greet Jeremy. “It's good to see you. Did you come by to welcome me back to Texas?”

“Actually, I wanted to discuss a legal issue with you.”

Rafe's mood grew serious. “Sure, come with me. Let's talk about it in private.”

Once they'd each taken a seat, Jeremy couldn't help noting the glass case that held a variety of trophies and team photos from Rafe's years of playing baseball through high school and college.

“You've got a nice office,” he told the well-built athlete who dressed in power suits these days.

“Thanks.”

Minutes later, Jeremy had told Rafe about Kirsten, Max and Anthony.

“I'd like to help,” Rafe said, “but I'm a corporate attorney and this really isn't my field. I can refer you to a specialist, though.”

“I'm not ready to discuss this with anyone else. So even though you're not all that up on family law, you should have an opinion that would be helpful.”

“I can do that,” Rafe said. “But it seems to me that the first thing to do is to request the birth certificate.”

“That's the problem. Courtney, the baby's mother, doesn't seem to have it. Or, if she does, she's not making it readily available. And God only knows who fathered Anthony. She first told Max that the baby was his. Now she's saying the father is someone named Charlie.”

“It sounds like a real mess.”

Jeremy nodded. “You've got that right. In Kirsten's defense, she only has the baby's best interests at heart. But I'm afraid she's setting herself up for trouble if she doesn't call the police and report the situation.”

“I agree,” Rafe said. “Who knows what the actual details are? It could even be a noncustodial kidnapping. Maybe Courtney considers Charlie ‘bad news' because he's furious at her for leaving and wants his son back.”

“That thought crossed my mind, too.” And if that was the case, Charlie wouldn't pose a threat to anyone other than Courtney. Hoping for the best, yet not convinced,
Jeremy blew out a sigh. “So you would advise her to report it.”

“Well, that's the correct legal move,” Rafe said. “But you should probably keep in mind that Kirsten's emotions are involved. And under the circumstance, doing the ‘right' thing could prove costly to
you.
”

Jeremy suspected that Rafe meant he could win the battle and lose the girl, which would hurt. But he couldn't stand by and watch Kirsten make a mistake that would cost them both a whole lot more.

Rafe added, “It sounds to me as though Kirsten is the type who would sacrifice her own comfort—maybe even her freedom—to keep her family safe.”

For a moment, Jeremy wondered if Rafe was speaking from experience, although he was probably reading too much into his tone, into his words. Either way, he didn't question him.

“I guess I'll have to really give it some thought,” he said instead.

“I would.” Rafe sat back in the desk chair. “Just how important is this woman to you?”

Jeremy hated to admit it, but he leveled with his friend. “Kirsten's come to mean a great deal to me.”

In fact, Kirsten was proving to be a real mama bear when she thought one of her cubs was in danger—just like Molly Fortune had been. And he had to give her credit for that.

It was, he supposed, the result of thinking with her heart instead of her head. And it reminded him of the words he'd had with Max just a few hours earlier.

When Max complained that Kirsten got way too emotionally involved in things, Jeremy had said getting emotionally involved was a trait many women had. And that it made for a “good balance” in a relationship.

He probably ought to keep that in mind.

After thanking Rafe for his time, he stood to leave. “Have Vonda send me a bill. I'm staying at the Double Crown.”

“No,” Rafe said. “I won't be charging you anything. This one's on me. Besides, this really isn't my specialty.”

“I needed some sound advice, and you gave it to me. So thanks again. I owe you one.”

As Jeremy headed for his car, he realized he would have to go along with Kirsten's wishes for now. But that didn't mean he wasn't worried.

Instead of heading to the clinic, he drove back to Kirsten's house, hoping to set things to rights.

But when he arrived, his heart dropped to the ground when he knocked and rang the bell, only to find her gone.

J
eremy tried to tell himself that Kirsten was probably at the grocery store or running errands, but that didn't quell his worry.

After ringing the bell and knocking on the front door numerous times, he peered through the small window into the garage, only to see that her car was gone. At least, she wasn't sitting inside, refusing to see him.

So now what?

He'd be damned if he'd just head to the clinic, go to work and pretend as if nothing was wrong. Maybe he ought to hang out here for a while and wait to see if she came home.

Or better yet, he should try her on her cell. But before he could dial out, a call came in.

He answered without checking the display. “Hello?”

“Jeremy? It's Ruben. Your buddy Max didn't show up this morning. Do you have any idea why?”

He didn't show up? “What do you mean? He was at the ranch early this morning. I talked to him.”

“Then he must have left before I started lining up the hands for the day.”

Damn. This whole thing was blowing up in Jeremy's face.

“Listen, Ruben. I don't know what's going on, but I'll get to the bottom of it. And as soon as I do, I'll give you a call.”

When the line disconnected, Jeremy swore under his breath. Then he dialed Kirsten's number. He let out another curse when he reached her voice mail, but went ahead and left a message, asking her to call as soon as she got it.

But where the hell was she? And why did Max take off this morning after Jeremy told him to go to work?

He glanced at his wristwatch. It was Anthony's nap time. So why wasn't Kirsten home? And why wasn't she picking up the damn phone?

His first thought was to do what he'd wanted to do originally, and that was to call the police. But out of respect and courtesy to Kirsten, he held back—at least momentarily. However, if she was in trouble, if Charlie had come around, if…

Jeremy raked his hand through his hair, then tried her number again. Finally, when he was about to disconnect, she picked up, her voice distraught.

“Jeremy?” she asked.

“Yes, it's me. Where are you?”

“I'm driving around town, looking for Max. He came home right after you left my house. He told me that he didn't have to work today after all. So I asked him to watch Anthony while I ran to the market. He agreed, but when I got back, he and the baby were gone. He also took the diaper bag, the supply of bottles and formula and the Portacrib. I have no idea where he went or what he plans to do.”

“Have you called him?”

“Several times, but his phone must be shut off. Either that or the battery is dead. I'm really getting worried.”

“Where are you now?” Jeremy asked.

“I'm sitting in my car. I pulled over by that new burger place when you called.”

“Then come home. I'll be waiting for you. And we'll figure this out together.”

Ten minutes later, Kirsten arrived at the house. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks tearstained.

“You were right all along,” she said. “We should have gone to the police. But oh, no, I wouldn't listen. And now Max and the baby are gone.”

“Did he say anything to you earlier about where he might go and why? Maybe he was afraid that Charlie found out where you lived. Maybe he's trying to protect you and the baby.”

“Oh, my God. Do you think that's what happened?”

“I have no idea. Right now, I'm just grabbing at straws.

But it doesn't matter. We'll find them, honey. I promise
we will. And we don't have to alert the authorities unless you want to.”

Kirsten looked at him, confusion etched across her face. “I don't understand. You were gung ho to call them earlier. Why the change of heart?”

He slipped his arms around her. “I haven't changed my mind. I still think we would be better off going the legal route. But I love you enough to trust that you'll do the right thing when you're ready.”

“You
love
me?” She seemed awed, touched. Surprised.

“Yes, I do.” He kissed her, his lips lingering over hers for the longest time, his heart fully engaged.

Just as they drew apart, Kirsten's cell phone rang.

“It could be Max,” she said, flipping open the lid. “I need to take it.”

 

“Kirsten?” Max said.

When Kirsten heard her brother's voice over the line, her breath caught.

“Where are you?” she asked. “And where is the baby?”

“Anthony's with me. And we're both safe.”

Relief flooded through her. “Tell me where you are. If you don't want to come home, at least let me keep the baby for you.”

“Can I talk to Jeremy first?”

Before answering her question? Before telling her where he was? She wanted to throttle him, but she handed over the cell to Jeremy anyway.

She supposed she ought to be glad that Max respected the man enough to go to him for sage advice, something that had been sorely lacking in his life since their father left. So she swallowed back her hurt feelings and homed in on the one side of the conversation she could hear.

“What's going on?” Jeremy asked, listening intently.

Then he said, “You've got to be kidding me.”

What? Kirsten wanted to ask, moving closer, hoping to catch a word or a phrase of whatever explanation Max was giving him.

“You're going to have to stop calling her a flake,”

Jeremy said. “That doesn't even begin to describe her or her character.”

The conversation continued, but Jeremy only uttered a grunt now and then. And by the time he ended the call, Kirsten was beside herself.

“What's that crazy woman done now?” she asked.

“You aren't going to believe this. She just told Max that she's not the baby's mother.”

Kirsten was stunned. “Then who's his mom?” she asked. “And where did Courtney get him?”

“She insists that she didn't kidnap him. And she still claims that Charlie is the father, that he left him with her.”

Kirsten's head was spinning, and her heart was breaking. That precious little child didn't deserve any of this.

God only knew who his real parents were.

“Where are Max and Anthony now?” she finally asked.

“Max is taking the baby to the police department.

He said the baby was entrusted to him, and that it's his responsibility to do the right thing.”

“What does that mean?”

“He's decided to take the advice I gave him earlier and is going to report this to the police.”

“Then we need to meet him there.” For a moment, Kirsten feared that Jeremy would remind her that he had to go to the clinic this morning, that he was too busy to get involved, especially in this kind of mess.

But he did just as she'd hoped he would. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and said, “Yes, we do. Get Anthony's car seat, and we'll put it in my vehicle. When I told you we were in this together, I meant it.”

Kirsten didn't think she could love the man any more than she did right now.

 

Ten minutes later, Jeremy drove Kirsten and Max to the police precinct.

“What if they take him away from us?” she asked. “I hate the idea of Anthony going with strangers.”

It was better than having the mysterious Charlie find him, Jeremy thought. Besides, Anthony was young enough that he'd probably be okay with anyone who kept him warm and fed, anyone who was loving and kind. But he didn't share that thought with Kirsten.

As far as she was concerned, no one could take care of Anthony as well as she could. And Jeremy had to agree with that.

“Don't worry. I'll do whatever it takes to convince the authorities to let us keep him until things get sorted out.”

“Us?”
she asked, her eyes hopeful and bright.

“Yes,
us.
We're in this together, honey. And I plan to call in some favors. The Fortunes and the Mendozas are highly thought of in these parts. So I don't think you have anything to worry about.”

At least, not yet.

Once at police headquarters, Max told the officer in charge why they were there. Then they were taken to a small conference room, where Max reported all that he knew about Charlie and Courtney.

The officer in charge leaned back in his chair. “We'll place the baby in protective custody while we track down the parents.”

“We'd like to keep him with us,” Jeremy said. “We've got a bedroom for him. And we've been taking care of him for weeks.”

“I don't mind placing the child with family,” the officer said, “but under the circumstances…”

“I'm a physician,” Jeremy said, giving Max a look and a silent message to encourage him to follow his lead. “And this is my fiancée and her brother.”

Kirsten didn't say a word, although she tensed a bit at his response. So he took her hand in his and gave it a warm, trust-me-honey squeeze.

“The baby will be much better off with us,” he added. “We've also got a list of references, beginning with J. R. Fortune and Jose Mendoza. You won't be sorry.”

Jeremy watched as Max began to nod in agreement and as a grin spread over his face. It was clear that he understood what Jeremy was trying to make happen.

Getting the authorities to award temporary custody to Max might have been a stretch, but a solid and dependable couple stood a lot better chance.

The officer thought about it a moment, then said, “I'll have to run it by a judge so that we can get a temporary custody order. Hold on while I see if I can find one who's nearby and available.”

When the man stepped out of the room, Max said, “Anthony needs a diaper change. And there's one of those family restrooms just down the hall. I'll be right back.”

When they were alone, Kirsten nudged Jeremy's arm. “Your
fiancée?
”

“I thought it might help sway the judge to grant you custody.”

Kirsten's brow furrowed, and her expression grew serious. “You're probably right, but I…”

He wasn't sure what was bothering her, the fact that he'd stretched the truth about an engagement, he supposed. But this wasn't a discussion he wanted to have at the courthouse. “We can talk more about it later.”

She nodded, yet her apprehension remained.

Twenty minutes later, it was official. Kirsten Allen and Dr. Jeremy Fortune had temporary legal custody of Baby Anthony Doe.

With everything in order, they headed for the car to make the short drive back to Kirsten's house.

“Thanks so much for all you've done for me and my
sister,” Max said. “This situation has been pretty tough on us, but having you in our corner sure helped.”

“I'm glad everything worked out.”

“I'd better give Ruben a call,” Max added. “I need to apologize for taking off like I did, but when Courtney said she was leaving the area and that she wanted to meet with me before she went, I didn't know what else to do.”

“Hopefully Ruben will cut you some slack,” Jeremy said. “But next time something like that happens, you're going to have to level with him—or with whoever your supervisor happens to be. You can't just walk off a job site without an explanation.”

“I'll remember that.”

“So where did Courtney go?” Kirsten asked.

“She wouldn't tell me. But she did give me this.” Max reached into his pocket, pulled out a small gold medal lion and dropped it in his sister's hand.

“What is it?” Kirsten asked, as she studied the golden coin in her palm.

“Courtney said that Anthony was wearing it when Charlie gave him to her.”

Jeremy studied the medallion. “It doesn't look all that expensive. But maybe it holds a clue as to who he is and where he belongs.”

He sure hoped so. They could all stand a few answers right now.

 

Meanwhile, miles away in a small Texas town, a teenager hanging out at a bus stop spotted an old homeless guy wandering the streets. At least, he looked homeless.

He also appeared to be disoriented, maybe strung out on something.

When he approached the bench, where the kid sat, he furrowed his silver brow—confused, it seemed.

He had to be in his late sixties or early seventies.

Heck, maybe even older.

As he scanned the immediate area, the bench, the grass, the sidewalk—even the sky—it was pretty obvious that he didn't have any idea where he was.

“You okay?” the kid asked him.

“I'm not sure.”

“What's your name?” the boy asked.

Confusion washed over his bearded face. “I…I don't know.”

The teen wondered if he ought to report the old guy, although he seemed harmless. Just a little messed up, which was really sad for a guy his age. He ought to be sitting in a rocking chair on a porch somewhere, not wandering around and scrounging for a meal.

Feeling especially sympathetic, the kid reached into his pocket and retrieved a granola bar he'd grabbed from the kitchen pantry on his way out of the house today.

“You want this?”

The old guy took it, rolled it over. Then he looked up and smiled wistfully. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

The kid didn't smell stale booze or smoke on him, but who knew for sure. So he asked, “You a wino? Or maybe a druggie?”

The man slowly shook his head. “No, but to tell you the truth, I feel kind of hungover. Maybe I was at a frat party.”

At
his
age? And in
his
condition? No way.

The guy was clearly whacked-out. Maybe he was one of those Alzheimer's patients who wandered away from the nursing home every now and then.

“How old are you?” the kid asked.

“Twenty-five,” he said. “Or maybe twenty-six. I forget.”

Oh, yeah? Then he must have forgotten about fifty whole years of his life.