Excerpt from
Undercover Baby
By Adrianne Lee
(Harlequin Intrigue, April 2001)
EXCERPT
The elderly physician's concerned expression
offered Joanna Edwards little
comfort. “We’ve repaired the wound to your
father’s arm, but I’m afraid
he’s suffered a heart attack since being shot.”
“No!” Joanna gasped. Her hands flew to her
breast, over her own
thundering heart. “How bad is he?”
“It was a massive coronary. He’s stabilized, but
very weak.”
Bob caught her by the shoulders, holding her erect.
“Is there anything
that can be done?”
“He needs bi-pass surgery.” Dr. Park glanced at
one, then the other. “But
at the moment, he’s not strong enough to risk it.
Maybe in another day or
two . . . ”
Joanna stared at him, numb, his awful pronouncement a possible
death
sentence for her father. This couldn’t be happening,
not on her wedding
day. A pulse throbbed at her temple. “May I see
him?”
“I want to move him to CCU. Get him settled first, but
he’s insisting on
speaking to you now.” Dr Park narrowed his eyes,
caution in every word he
spoke, “Keep it short--and don't upset him.”
On wobbly legs, Joanna made her way through the swinging doors to
her
father's bed. The tubes and machines attached to Lonnie
Edwards re-enforced
the seriousness of his condition. His face was still
unnaturally white, his
lips blue.
Swallowing hard, Joanna blinked back tears and took her father's
hand,
surprised at the coolness of it. “Hi, there. You
gave me quite a scare.”
Lonnie’s green eyes, so like her own, were strangely
dull. He was only
fifty-four, but looked at least ten years older; his thick black
mane had
gone completely gray in the past year. Thanks to her.
And now this. Guilt
and fear twisted tighter than the knot at the base of her throat.
If only she hadn’t met Shane Addison in Paris.
The wayward thought brought her up short. Would she
continue to blame
Shane for every bad thing that befell her and her family?
Even her father’s
heart attack? Even knowing Lonnie was overweight, a
sugar-loving,
exercise-hating couch potato?
No. The police were certain it was a drive-by
shooting. A random crime.
No reason to suspect otherwise. Just a horrible incident
that had led to
even greater tragedy. Bad things happened to good
people. And Lonnie
Edwards was good people.
Maybe it was the wedding gift from Nancy Wheeler that had her
thinking of
Shane again. Receiving a gift from her was strange.
They hadn’t see Nancy
in over six months. Hadn’t heard from her.
Suddenly out of the blue she
sends a wedding present. How had she known about the
wedding? Had she kept
tabs on Joanna all this time? If so, why?
Lonnie broke into her thoughts. “Please. . .forgive
me.”
The weakness of her father's voice set fresh worry bouncing
inside Joanna,
making her more aware than ever that she mustn't let it
show. “Don’t be
silly. The wedding will take place as soon as you're back
on your feet.”
This assurance seemed to aggravate Lonnie more, but Joanna
shushed him.
“No, don’t talk. Rest--or I'll go.”
To her relief, Lonnie closed his eyes and seemed to sleep.
But he looked suddenly so frail, robbed of his usual
indestructible mantle,
like a felled knight of the roundtable. A band of fear
wrapped her heart.
He was all the immediate family she had. Dear God,
don’t let me lose him.
As though he’d heard her thought, Lonnie opened his eyes
again. Sweat
beaded his forehead. “Say. . .you. . .forgive. .
.me.”
Apprehension twisted inside her. She could see his
agitation increasing,
his complexion graying. Tears burned the back of her
eyes. Maybe she
should get the doctor. “Dad, hush. I don't have
anything to forgive you
for and if you don't relax, I'll have to leave.”
Lonnie lay quietly for several seconds, pain etched in the taut
lines of
his mouth, then his guilt-ridden gaze again sought Joanna.
“Not. . .drive.. .by.”
Joanna stiffened. “What?”
“Shane. . .”
“No,” she denied. “He doesn’t need to
worry about us anymore.”
“Shane. . .” Her father repeated.
Joanna’s pulse faltered. Shane. His
image flashed into her mind. His
white blond hair, brown-lashed hazel eyes, the bump on his nose,
his quick
grin–-that she’d since learned was practiced,
phony--all brought home to her
in a rush of bitter reminiscence, resurrecting a wealth of
regret,
revulsion, and, yes, fear.
“Why would Shane send someone after us now? We
aren’t a threat to him any
longer.”
The heart rate monitor's display beam jumped erratically as
Lonnie said on
a raspy breath, “The baby.”
Joanna felt as if the floor had turned to water beneath her
feet. Her
baby. She had loved her from the instant she'd known
she was pregnant.
The wound of losing her was still too fresh. Biting
back a sob, she
swallowed hard. Her daughter’s precious life had ended
before it began.
Joanna hadn't even see her. Had been too ill. Had
passed out. By the time
she’d recovered, it was too late. All over. The
baby in the hands of the
mortician.
“Don’t bring this up now, Dad.” Gripping the
side of the bed to steady
herself, Joanna leaned closer, closed her eyes and released a
lung-bursting
breath. “It’s over. Done. Shane no
longer has any reason to fear us or to
hurt us.”
“Does! Must have discovered--” The
mechanical bleeps skittered.
Joanna stiffened in alarm. Her palms were damp, her hands
unsteady,
belying her strength to deal with both her painful past and her
awful
present. “Please, Dad, don’t--”
“Must!” Anguish contorted her father's
features. He drew a hollow
wheezing breath. “Not. . .over.”
Chilly fingers clutched Joanna's heart. The warmth dropped
from her cheeks
and she knew her face was as white as her wedding gown. Her
gaze locked
with Lonnie's. “Why do you keep insisting it’s
not over?”
“Baby,” Lonnie murmured in an eerie croak, “not .
. . stillborn.”
“Not stillborn?” Blood thundered in Joanna's
ears, cutting off all other
sound. She couldn't breathe. For a long moment shock
paralyzed her limbs.
Confusion grabbed her thoughts. “What are you
saying? Whose ashes did we
bury? Where is Maddy? My Maddy?”
Lonnie's features twisted with pain and his eyes glazed.
“God. . .forgive
me.” He gasped and went limp, then motionless.
“Forgive you?” The significance of his confession
struck Joanna full
force. Disbelieving horror tore through her, ripped open
old wounds and
constricted the muscles in her throat reducing her voice to a
strangled
whisper. “What did you do with my baby?”
Her father didn't answer. His glassy eyes just stared at
the ceiling.
“Dad!” Conscious of neither the machine's
flattened ribbon nor the steady
bleat of the alarm, nor the sound of rapidly approaching
footsteps, Joanna
screamed again and again, “Where is my little girl?”
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