Marrying the Wrong Man (6 page)

Oh, God, why is she crying? Why won’t she fall asleep?

Morgan stilled beneath the covers in her aunt’s guest bed, hoping the child beside her would settle. Charlotte had been awake and crying for four of the last six hours.

“Shh.” Morgan scooted closer to Charlotte. This had been hard on her angel, too. “Shh,” she said again. “It’s okay. Mommy’s here.”

She brushed her lips across Charlotte’s forehead. Her skin was scorching.
Crap.
No wonder the child was miserable; she was sick. Again.

“Need help?” Aunt Phyllis stood in the dim light of the hallway.

“Thanks, but I’m not sure there’s anything you can do, not unless you have children’s pain reliever.”

“I had a chicken break a leg not too long ago. I treated her with children’s pain reliever. There might be some left. Let me check.”

Morgan blinked against the darkness and held Charlotte closer. Thank God for Aunt Phyllis’s eccentricities. Her mother used to rant about how Phyllis had lost her mind, but after three days of being here, Morgan had realized her aunt was more quirky than crazy, and she was eager to help. She was the only one Morgan could count on. Having someone—anyone—felt good.

After a dose of medicine and several minutes in the rocking chair, Charlotte fell asleep draped across Morgan’s body.

Aunt Phyllis sat on the couch across from them, having refused to go back to bed. Two cats cuddled beside her. “She needs to see a doctor.”

“I know.” Morgan pushed her feet off the floor, setting the chair rocking. “When she pulls on her ear like that, it always means an ear infection. She needs an antibiotic. But I don’t have insurance.” She couldn’t afford to extend the policy after she’d been fired.

It was another reason she needed to find work fast.

“Kory Flemming took a look at my chicken even though she’s not a vet. Ask her.”

Alice’s best friend who’d left town years ago? Maybe Aunt Phyllis was crazy after all. “Isn’t Kory in Chicago?”

Aunt Phyllis made a face. “No. She’s engaged to Will Mitchell and splitting time between the nursing home and Valley Hospital.”

This town.
Even those with the brightest futures couldn’t seem to stay away. Harmony Falls sucked them right back in. “Let’s see how she’s doing in the morning.”

With any luck the worst would have passed.

Come morning, Charlotte’s fever was back with a vengeance, and Morgan swallowed her pride. Again.

“Mitchell residence. This is Constance speaking. How may I help you?”

“Hello, Constance. This is Morgan…” Her last name caught in her throat, something that had been happening ever since her father’s arrest. “Is Mark available?”

“One moment, please.”

By the time Mark said hello, Charlotte was screaming again. Morgan bounced the child on her knee until Aunt Phyllis came inside from feeding the chickens, washed her hands, and scooped up the miserable girl.

“Wow. Somebody has a set of lungs,” Mark said.

“Charlotte is sick, and I need an antibiotic called in for her. I don’t have insurance, but I do have some money. Do you think … would you ask … Kory if she’d help me out?”

Morgan’s chest convulsed. Being desperate and needy sucked, but seeing Charlotte in pain was worse.

“I can ask.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve talked to her.”

“Thank you,” she said again, letting relief soothe some of the worry.

An hour later, it was back as she sat in Aunt Phyllis’s living room, watching Kory Flemming stick an otoscope in Charlotte’s ear.

“Poor, baby,” Kory said. “It’s a mess in there.” She gave a pointed look at Morgan, who had filled her in on Charlotte’s medical history. “She needs to see a pediatrician for long-term treatment of this. If they’re recurring at this rate, there are things that can be done.”

“As soon as I find a job and get some health insurance, I’m on it.”

“You shouldn’t wait that long.” Kory pulled a prescription pad from the front pocket of her black satchel. “Get her on medical assistance or state aid.”

Morgan winced. How many times had her father complained about people who took handouts? But Kory was right; Charlotte needed to see a pediatrician.

“I’ll check into it.”

“You do that.” Kory held out the prescription. “There are programs for you as well. Look into WIC.”

This wasn’t happening. She had a law degree. Women with law degrees weren’t homeless. They didn’t apply for public assistance.

Then Charlotte stirred in her arms, her small face twisted up in pain. Tomorrow morning, she was going to drive to Rileyville and walk into every law firm in that mid-sized town—and then, she would find a daycare for Charlotte, where hopefully the little one would be healthier than she had been in Connecticut.

After Kory had gone, Charlotte fell asleep on Morgan’s chest. She needed to get to the pharmacy before it closed, but every time she tried to pass the little one off to Aunt Phyllis, she woke screaming.

“I can go.” Aunt Phyllis stifled a yawn. “That Impala might not be pretty, but she still knows the way to town.”

Morgan smiled. Thank God for Aunt Phyllis. She didn’t seem to mind the chaos Morgan and Charlotte brought to her quiet life. But Morgan wasn’t going to take advantage of that. “Thank you, but you need to go lay down. We all need some sleep after last night. I can take her with me. She’ll sleep the whole way there.” Hopefully.

Aunt Phyllis shuffled off to her bedroom, kittens scurrying behind her just as Morgan closed her eyes. She would enjoy a little peace and quiet before she attempted the trip to town.

Her breathing barely had time to even before a knock on the front door rattled her. Charlotte cried. She carried the child to the window and peeked around the curtains.

Charlie.

So much for peace and quiet.

• • •

Focus on the child.
That’s why he was back on Phyllis’s front porch after he’d told Morgan to stay the hell away from him. Whatever had happened between him and her didn’t matter anymore. No matter how much he hated what she’d done and the fact that she was in Harmony Falls again, she was here … with his daughter. He needed to keep a lid on his anger.

Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a father, but he had a right to know for sure.

The door opened, and Morgan stared at him. “I didn’t expect to see you again.” Her eyes were rimmed in red, and her hair was falling out of its ponytail.

“Yeah, well, I had some time to calm down.” But still his jaw clenched. This woman was going to screw up his life again, wasn’t she? “We should talk about … the kid.”
Charlotte.
He knew her damn name. It just came with too much emotion for him to say it.

“Okay,” Morgan said.

The little one was limp, and her sweaty curls clung to her mother’s neck.

“Is she sick?” he asked.

“Ear infection.”

He reached out and grazed his fingertips down Charlotte’s back. She looked miserable. “Is there anything I can do?”

Morgan wrinkled her nose. “No, I can handle it.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I’m offering my help. She’s my daughter, too, you know.” It felt good to finally assert it.

“Believe me, I know.” She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them there was less tension on her face. “If you’re serious about helping, I could use someone to run into town for some medicine. Kory Flemming was here, and she left a prescription, but Aunt Phyllis is in bed, and I’m dreading dragging Charlotte out like this.”

“Done.” This was perfect—a way to help out his kid while he kept his distance from her mother.

“Oh my God,” Morgan breathed. “I really didn’t expect you to agree. Thank you. Thank you so much!”

His pulse quickened. How sad was that? After she’d walked away and kept his kid from him, he still got a rush from something as simple as a little appreciation.
Reflex
, he thought. Old habits died hard and all that crap. But he wouldn’t be pulled down that destructive road again. “Does she need anything else?”

Morgan touched the script to his hand. “Maybe some electrolyte drink. Ask the pharmacist. He can show you what it is. Wait, and let me give you money.”

He balked. How much child support had he been deprived of paying in the last two years? “No. I owe her this … and a hell of a lot more.”

Morgan stared at him again. “Thank you.”

“You said that already.” At least this time his heart rate didn’t flinch.

Fifteen minutes later, Charlie walked into the pharmacy. Maybe he should’ve anticipated the way the pharmacist scrutinized the prescription. When the town’s once-notorious addict rolled into the pharmacy, surely someone would think he was looking for narcotics. But he wasn’t, and that wasn’t even the biggest surprise. Nope. Fred Farr had to be floored by the last name on the prescription.

“Is there a problem?” Charlie asked.

Fred shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. I just … you have … have you …I mean, has she had a prescription filled here before?”

“No, she hasn’t.”

“Yes, well. I need an address and date of birth in order to fill this.”

Charlie stretched the kinks out of his neck and signed. Address was a problem. He knew Phyllis’s street, but he didn’t know her box number. Birthdate? He knew that one by heart. When the paternity papers had reached him, he’d stared at the April date until he couldn’t see straight anymore. It’d nearly killed him to sign away his rights, but he’d hoped their baby would have a good life, a better one than they could offer.

Turns out he could’ve saved himself the heartache.

In the end, he gave his address as Charlotte’s address, and then he wandered around the pharmacy waiting for the prescription to be filled. He carried a six-pack of pediatric electrolyte drink in the crook of his arm, hopeful the stuff would perk her up a bit. He couldn’t get the pitiful sight of her, limp and sweaty, out of his mind. Maybe she needed tissues. He tucked a box of Kleenex under his other arm.

As he made his way back to the pick-up window, a king-sized KitKat bar caught his eye. Morgan loved those things. At least she had. He used to buy them by the dozen when she’d been home from college and stressed out by her overbearing, overly critical parents.

He grabbed a bar and studied the packaging.
Don’t do it, man.
And yet he couldn’t get past how beaten up she’d looked. Maybe this would give her a boost … so she could better take care of Charlotte.

When he returned to Phyllis’s house, he didn’t bother knocking. He didn’t want to wake them if they were sleeping. Turning the knob, he pushed inside to find Morgan and Charlotte cuddling on the recliner chair.

Morgan smiled at him. He wished he could muster some of the anger he’d felt the other day.

“Thank you so much,” she whispered.

His pulse accelerated.
Don’t be stupid. Do not fall for her again.
Three years and a baby didn’t change the fact she couldn’t be trusted. “No problem.”

Charlotte didn’t lift her head off Morgan’s shoulder, but she watched him from the corners of her eyes. He reached into the bag and pulled out the medicine. “This is for you. It’s going to make you feel better.”

She wrinkled her nose just like Alice would have.

Charlie grinned. “She doesn’t like medicine?”

“Who does?”

He freed the six-pack of pink electrolyte drink from the bag. “How about this?”

She hid her face against Morgan’s chest.

He shrugged and set the drink on the coffee table beside the medicine. “It looks like the man strikes out.”

Morgan shook her head. “You get three strikes before you’re out. You’ll do better when she isn’t sick.”

Maybe he would. Maybe he wouldn’t. There was a good chance he wasn’t cut out for this fatherhood thing no matter how hard he tried. He hadn’t had the best role model.

“Charlie, about the other day. I don’t want bad blood between us. I really am sorry. I know they’re just words, but I’m going to find a way to prove it to you—for our daughter’s sake.”

Our daughter’s sake.
They had a kid. Together. Holy shit. How surreal was that?

“What else is in the bag?” Morgan’s eyes sparkled.

He’d forgotten about that. Could she see the orange packaging through the white plastic bag?

He pulled his hands behind his back. Another reflex. It seemed eerily natural to tease her.

“Charlie … ” she grinned, “what’s in the bag?”

Years ago, she would’ve teased him, too. She would’ve backed him into a corner and searched every ounce of his body until she found the chocolate. His muscles tightened on the memory.

He dropped the bag into her lap. “It’s no big deal. You just looked like you were having a bad day.”

She stared at him. “Try a bad year.”

Aside from her parents turning to a life of crime, whose fault was that exactly? His jaw ticked. So much for keeping a lid on the anger. “I wanted to be there for you.”

Her eyes rolled upward, and he could see the tears on her lashes. “I know you did. I made a mistake.” She gave a half-laugh. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes. And I’m so sorry about most of them. But I’m not sorry about her. Please, don’t let how you feel about me get in the way of how you feel about her. You’re more than welcome to hate me.”

He looked at the bag in her lap and then the child in her arms. It was too late for that, wasn’t it? The best he could do was to keep her at a distance.

Maybe then he wouldn’t end up loving her again.

“You are still one popular girl.” Aunt Phyllis let the curtain fall back into place. “That ‘Mama’s Boy’ Mitchell is here to see you.”

“Mark?” Morgan gave Charlotte the building block she’d been holding and stood. “Why would Mark come see me?”

“Well, he sure as heck isn’t here to see me. Answer the door and find out. I’ll sit with baby girl.” Aunt Phyllis made a silly face at Charlotte, who laughed.

Thank God she was feeling better. Twenty-four hours after starting the antibiotic, and she was like a different kid.

Morgan was feeling remarkably good, too. Good enough to smile when she answered the door.